Shifting Skylines
by yumi michiyo
Summary: Quinn Fabray has grand plans for her pre-college summer vacation: a road trip. When Marley joins her as a last-minute addition, things change and develop in ways none of them had ever expected. Fabrose. Slight canon!AU. Now complete.
1. Lima, Ohio

**Author's Notes: **Those of you who follow me on Tumblr may know I've been talking about writing this fic for quite a while now... well, here it is!

Major credit goes to **_Mike_ Ownby**, who in addition to his regular duties of grammar Nazi-ing, spellcheck, and Americanization, came up with a feasible roadtrip plan as I live far, far away from the USA, _and _ensured I didn't abandon this fic. Without him, it's safe to say you wouldn't be reading this.

* * *

"– Seriously, Santana?"

The other woman shrugs. "Look, Q. I'm sorry, I really am."

Quinn sighs. "I know. But at the very last minute, how am I gonna find another road trip buddy?"

"Take Berry. She'll love singing in the car at the top of her lungs, you'll love being able to push her out somewhere in rural Montana where no one will ever find her body." Santana grins, nudging Quinn's arm not-so-subtly.

"You're not funny," says Quinn, barely suppressing a smirk.

"Yes, I am." Santana pulls a nail file out of her bag and started buffing her nails. "Seriously, though. Why not her?"

"She's got vocal camp in Columbus," replies Quinn. "I asked her ages ago."

"Oh, well, in that case thank God I couldn't make it. You were trying to kill me. Cooping me and Berry Tiny in an enclosed space for a week is a recipe for Snixx."

"She's not that bad," says Quinn, rolling her eyes. "She's a lot better now after she got over herself _and _over Finn."

"Mmm, yeah. You two got a lot more bearable after you both realized that you could do so, _so _much better than Finn Constipated Hudson." Santana waggles her eyebrows at Quinn. "Too bad it didn't work out between you two, eh?"

Quinn shrugs in lieu of giving a verbal answer.

"Aww, don't be like that…"

The bell rings, and Quinn breathes a sigh of relief. "Go away. Don't you have Spanish with Brittany now?"

"I'm Latina," says Santana with a shrug. "Goodness knows how this school let me sign up for Spanish. You know I could ace that class in my sleep. I'm only in it 'cause that's an easy A, and Britt-Britt needs my help." Much to Quinn's annoyance, she follows her out of the class and down the hallway. "But we got bigger problems than my girl not knowing the difference between _yo soy _and yo' mama. You," she pokes Quinn's arm, "need a road trip buddy pronto."

"I'll be fine," grumbles Quinn.

"No, you won't."

"Yes, I will."

"Nuh-uh."

Quinn scowls. "What are you, five? Shut up and go to class."

Santana rolls her eyes. "Okay, okay. Jeez. Yes, _Mom_." She walks a few steps, before suddenly whirling on her heel and almost clocking a poor freshman in the face with her bag. "Excuse me for trying to help you solve this major fucking problem."

Quinn ignores her, walking into Mr Fletcher's AP History class and sinking into her usual seat with a sigh. As much as it pained her to admit it, Santana is right; she _does _need a replacement. Reimbursing Santana for her half of the costs was the easy part, but Quinn won't be able to drive the entire planned itinerary on her own now that she's paying for fuel herself.

Financials aside, it was incredibly pathetic taking a road trip solo.

But it doesn't help to worry about it now. Quinn was raised to solve problems, not worry herself sick for a solution. Tuning Fletcher and his nasal drone on the Great Depression out, she opens her notebook and starts listing down all the senior girls she knows.

It looks promising initially, but after she's crossed out all the girls she doesn't actually like, she's left with a handful of names. Quinn reviews her list; Tina has a summer job lined up, Mercedes is going to Fort Wayne for summer camp. Brittany is going on vacation with her family. Idly, she wonders how someone who was pretty, popular (and most of all, _blonde_) ended up not having enough friends to fill out a notebook page.

It's hopeless. She wants to go wring Santana's neck; it won't actually solve anything, but it'll make her feel a lot better.

"She loves me, she loves me not…" says Santana when she walks into Glee.

"What?"

Santana smirks. "Amy Lewis told me about your list of eligible bachelorettes. Getting desperate, are we?"

"Shut up," she mutters.

Rachel walks in and upon spotting Quinn, immediately makes a beeline for her. "Quinn, I really am sorry I can't join you on your road trip," she says earnestly. "Trust me, a prolonged bonding session with you is something I would value greatly. Our friendship is extremely important to me, and you know I would do anything to maintain it."

"Don't worry about it, Rachel." She smiles at Rachel, who returns it with a megawatt grin of her own.

It's a shame, really. There was a point in time where Quinn thought she liked _liked_ Rachel, and that might be the actual reason for their constant arguing. Once she'd worked up the courage, she'd cornered Rachel in the third-floor girls' bathroom and kissed her. Her findings were mixed; although she's now confident she likes girls a lot more than boys (at least, kissing them), she doesn't actually like Rachel in _that_ way.

On the plus side, the feeling was mutual. Rachel took the kiss in her stride, saying something about getting her college experimentation done early and offering to kiss her again to help _Quinn's _experimentation – an offer Quinn had managed to graciously decline.

Yeah, Rachel was crazy, but it was a kind of crazy that had grown on Quinn. They were actually friends now, much to Rachel's delight and Santana's dismay. Freshman Quinn would have been horrified if she could see senior Quinn.

She's jogged back to reality by Santana's nail file in her elbow. "What?" hisses Quinn.

Santana's smiling at her as though she's discovered the cure for cancer. "What about Transfer Girl?" She points to the brunette girl seated in the lower row in front of them.

"What about her? Also, she has a name. Stop calling her that."

Santana shrugs. "Quinnifer, stop changing the goddamned subject. Jeezus, you could win the Olympic gold for running if they changed the place from the stupid track to running away from your problems."

Quinn snorts.

"Hey, I'm serious. Ask Marley if she's free this summer." Santana digs in her elbow, prompting a growl from Quinn.

"S, I'm not gonna ask someone I barely talk to outside of Glee on a _two-week_ road trip." Internally, she's a little disgruntled she didn't think of Marley herself, but she's not about to give Santana the satisfaction of knowing.

To Quinn's horror, Santana proceeds to lean down and prod the girl's shoulder. "Hey, Rose. You got any summer plans?"

Marley turns her head a fraction (Mr Schuester is still talking while the entire drama had been going on). "I'm sorry?"

"You. Summer. Free?"

"Shut up, Lezpez," grits out Quinn. She yanks Santana back into her seat. "Ignore her, she didn't take her meds this morning," she says to Marley.

"It's fine," says Marley, smiling (rather bewilderedly) and turning back.

To Mr Schuester, who is now talking about the history of jazz, and the movie _La La Land_'s invaluable contribution to the scene. Quinn screams internally.

Santana, to her credit, shuts up until Glee is over (maybe because she fell asleep, Quinn doesn't know for sure) and then practically leaps out of her chair to bar the door before Marley can leave.

"We haven't finished talking yet, Rosebud," says Santana. Quinn swears she can see the maniacal gleam in her eye. "You see, my BFF over there, that total MILF Quinn Fabray, is looking for a travel buddy for her "Fuck-High-School" road trip after graduation."

Quinn gets to her before Brittany or Rachel can. "Oh my God," she seethes, "you've embarrassed me so much today." She turns to Marley. "I'm so sorry."

"It's really okay…"

Santana's head pops up over Quinn's shoulder. "So, how about it?" she asks.

Marley blinks. "Uh, I'll be helping my mom with her catering business this summer…"

Santana claps her hands together. "Great! That means you got no plans." She turns to Quinn. "Problem solved. Take Lunchlady Jr with you."

Quinn rummages around in her bag for something to throw at Santana. She finds an old MAC concealer, take careful aim, and shoots; it bounces off Santana's shoulder. Ignoring Santana's loud, "Ow! Bitch!", Quinn says: "Just ignore her."

Marley laughs nervously. She glances between Santana and Quinn.

Rachel and Brittany – seemingly sensing that nothing good can come out of this – choose to intervene as a tag team, much to Quinn's relief. "Santana, Brittany and I were thinking that it's time you and I guest-starred on _Fondue for Two_," says Rachel loudly. "After all, if I'm to achieve my goal of winning a Tony before I'm twenty-five, it is imperative that I insert myself in the public consciousness as soon as possible, and I'm sure the positive press would be beneficial for whatever career you should choose to pursue after graduation."

"Very beneficial," says Brittany with a nod.

Santana eyes them both suspiciously but backs off. "Don't think I don't see what you're trying to do, but I'll play along." She saunters out of the choir room, Rachel and Brittany in tow. Quinn tries not to cringe when Rachel does her best Linda Blair impression to flash her a big thumbs-up and effervescent grin.

Quinn turns back to Marley, humiliated enough to last the entirety of her schooling life. "Sorry about that."

Marley laughs. "No, it's fine. They're like that pretty much all the time in Glee, so I'm used to it. It's cool."

Quinn now remembers why she hasn't really talked to Marley; she was usually the first one out of Glee, or she wouldn't show up at all. Now Quinn knows that it's probably because Marley was helping her mom in the cafeteria. "If you could do me a favor and forget about the entire thing, that would be great. I'm sorry that Santana dragged you into that hot mess."

"If you say so," replies Marley. She still has that small smile on her face. "I have to go. I'll see you next week?"

"Yeah. See you."

* * *

Santana is _definitely _on her shitlist now. Quinn replies 'k' to each of the texts she gets from her, knowing that would annoy her more than simply ignoring the messages. She also watches what turns out to be a very entertaining episode of _Fondue for Two_.

(She wasn't sure if Rachel and Brittany were bluffing to get Santana off her back, but she now knows that while individually formidable, together they are a force to be reckoned with.)

She still hasn't decided what to do with her road trip. She needs this break before the next phase of her life starts; Quinn isn't about to regale her new friends at Yale with her tales of Midwestern life. They'd probably think it was all hay rides and hoedowns. Yee-_fucking_-haw.

Come Monday, Quinn has all but erased last week's disaster from her mind until lunch.

When the weather is nice, Quinn likes to take her book and sandwich outside. She's a little behind on her reading, thanks to Santana, which irks her; books have always been the most effective thing for drowning out Mr Schue's lectures.

She's deep into the adventures of Pi when a voice interrupts her.

"Uh, hi."

Quinn looks up, surprised. "Marley? Hi."

"Hey. Do you mind if I join you?"

Quinn looks left and right at the empty concrete bleachers. "No, there's plenty of room."

Marley seats herself primly beside Quinn. She has an actual brown paper bag lunch, and she starts unpacking its contents.

Quinn goes back to reading. It's difficult to focus, however, when Marley keeps glancing at her – while trying her best not to be caught glancing at her.

She's mildly irritated. Yet, Quinn resigns herself to another delay in her reading schedule. "Yes, Marley?"

Marley gulps. "I, ah, huh?"

She tucks her bookmark inside and shuts the book. "Did you want to talk?"

"Oh. Uh, Santana said something about a road trip…?"

Her nervousness steadily erodes Quinn's patience. She props her elbow on her book and her chin on her palm to wait for Marley to finish talking. Unsurprisingly, her stance doesn't do much for Marley's confidence.

Screw this. She's treating the poor girl like one of her bumbling freshmen auditioning to be a part of the Cheerios, which Marley definitely doesn't deserve. "I'm sorry," says Quinn, considerably warmer, "let's start over. Hi, I'm Quinn Fabray. Senior, former Head Cheerio, and full-time Gleek." Quinn holds out her hand.

It does wonders to assuage Marley's nerves. Her smile looks less hesitant, and there's a surprising strength to her handshake. "Marley Rose. Also senior and Gleek but only junior lunchlady."

"Oh god," says Quinn, wincing, "I am _so_ sorry about that."

Marley waves her off. "It's okay," she insists with a laugh, "Really. Honestly, I've heard worse at my last school. Santana's not that bad, plus I know she's really a good person deep down."

"Only when Brittany's involved."

"Better than nothing." Marley's expression turns serious. "So, I came looking for you 'cause I wanted to know more about that road trip Santana was talking about."

Quinn shrugs. "Nothing much. We planned one after graduation as a quick fling before we go our separate ways at college all over the country. She had to drop out at the last minute. I'm looking for someone to go with because it's too expensive to afford on my own, but all my friends already have summer plans."

"Oh."

"Yeah. That's it." She finds herself at a loss for what to say next, and shrugs again. "Probably less spectacular than what you were expecting…"

"No, but it's fine," replies Marley. "Santana was _very _dramatic."

"That's one word for it." Quinn rolls her eyes. "Anyway, thanks for asking me about it." She's expecting Marley to pack up her things – now that there's no real reason for her to be out here – but Marley doesn't move. Instead, she fishes a book out of her backpack and balances it on her lap as she removes the foil from her sandwich.

Quinn just goes back to her book. She's secretly glad for the reprieve as she's not feeling up for further conversation.

* * *

With about two weeks to go before graduation and her trip, Quinn's more than a little on edge. She's no closer to finding a travel buddy than before, and she doesn't have enough savings to cover the entire thing. Santana's offered to pay her share anyway but Quinn won't hear of it.

The impending problem looms over her, making Quinn short-tempered and snarky. Even Santana comments on how the Head Cheerio seems to have returned.

She has a wonderful time in Glee. They're supposed to be performing songs from their favorite underrated musicals, and she still hasn't picked one yet, let alone gotten started on it. To make matters worse, Quinn snapped at Rachel when the other girl offered to help.

Quinn's planning on going over to Rachel's house later that evening to apologize. Maybe bring some fancy vegan snack with her. She's halfway across the parking lot when she hears a voice yelling her name.

"Quinn! Wait up!"

Quinn half-turns, expecting to see Rachel or even one of her other friends. She definitely wasn't expecting to see Marley Rose, bulky binder under one arm, jog up to her.

"Hey, Marley," says Quinn, trying not to sound too surprised. Marley didn't show up for Glee that day. Presumably, she was in the cafeteria. Brittany told her that Marley helps out there whenever the cafeteria is short-staffed.

Marley is a little pink in the face from her jog, but she looks jubilant. "Yes," she says.

"Huh?"

"Yeah, I can go on the road trip." She draws herself up a bit and adjusts one strap of her backpack. "I talked to my mom, and she thinks it's a great idea. At first I thought she'd be short-handed with her summer catering jobs 'cause I usually help out, but she talked to the Smiths – our next-door neighbours – and their kids are willing to do it. It'll be a great summer job for them and they don't have to go too far, y'know? I'm planning on going out of state for college too – we've been saving up for years now – and Mom says that it'll be a good experience for me to try being independent and see more of the world."

Marley doesn't seem to pause for breath throughout this entire monologue, and Quinn blinks in surprise, taking it all in. Finally, when Marley stops, Quinn asks: "So… you want to go? With me?"

"I, yeah." Marley reddens suddenly. "That is – only if you're okay with me going with you. We're just acquaintances, and you probably think I'm weird. God, we've barely spent any time together outside of school and Glee." She looks horrified. "Wow, okay, now when I think of it that way, this was a terrible idea."

"No, it's fine," says Quinn quickly. "I don't really have a lot of choice, and honestly? You're a better choice of traveling buddy than the others."

"That doesn't say much for your other choices," quips Marley.

Quinn shrugs. "Yeah. I'm glad that you can go. And I don't think you're weird."

"Thanks."

"Give me your email," says Quinn, unlocking her phone and handing it to Marley. "I'll send you the itinerary and trip details."

"Oh, right. Thanks, I hadn't even thought of that." She tucks the binder under one arm and starts tapping at the screen. "Here."

* * *

Quinn forgets that she and Marley share a class until the moment Marley takes the seat to her left in a clatter of books and stationery. She says so, and gets a rueful smile in return.

"Yeah, I normally sit in the back."

Quinn arches an eyebrow. And yet, here she is sitting beside Quinn without notice.

She seems to sense the unspoken thought. "We _are _gonna be road-tripping soon, right?" says Marley. "I know next to nothing about you, Quinn, and we'll be spending two weeks in a car. I think we should start getting to know each other better, right?"

She does her best to ignore the prickling sensation that the words _start getting to know each other better _induces in her. Quinn nods, and opens her textbook to today's chapter. "You're right. Can we start with how much I hate math?"

Marley's mouth twists to one side, and another; it's as though she's undecided on what facial expression math deserves. "Quinn, you're pulling an easy A in this class; and this class is AP Math."

"Doesn't mean I actually like it."

Up front, Mrs Medina taps her whiteboard marker on the board to get the class' attention. Quinn acquiesces, albeit reluctantly; she doesn't like math, but she _loathes _integration with a passion. It so happens to be today's chapter.

She becomes hyper-aware of Marley at her side. The other girl's pen doesn't stop moving as she takes meticulous notes. There's the occasional pause as she frowns at the paper and the hieroglyphics on the board, but her brow quickly smooths over…

… and Quinn snaps herself out of her daydream because she is _staring_, and it's creepy. She stares at Mrs Medina with a forced intensity as though the teacher is the most interesting thing she's ever seen.

Quinn's very, very good at pretending.

The rest of the lesson passes too slowly for Quinn's liking, but once it's over she loses no time shoving her things into her bag. She has AP English with Rachel, who at least is a known quantity.

"I don't think we share any other classes," notes Marley. She holds out her timetable to Quinn.

"Nope," confirms Quinn, after a quick glance.

"That's a shame." Marley shrugs, and smiles. "I'll see you in Glee then, I guess?"

"Yeah, I'll see you around." Quinn shoulders her bag and walks out.

* * *

Rachel's waiting for her in her usual seat. "You look flustered, Quinn," she comments. "Did anything happen?"

"No, nothing." She sinks into her chair.

"Are you sure?"

"Not in the mood, Berry."

Rachel pouts. "That doesn't scare me, Quinn Fabray. Or should I say, Fabray? Your insistence on last names when you are irked and unwilling to talk is a stalling tactic which no longer works on me."

"Interesting theory, Miss Berry," says their English teacher as she passes their desks. "However, I'd like it if you could save the discussion for after my class."

Rachel turned red, muttering, "Of course, Ms Radnick," and turning her attention back to her books.

Just when Quinn thinks the Berry Inquisition is over, Rachel shoves a twist of paper onto her notebook. She sighs and untwists the note to read _this is not over, we'll talk later x R _in Rachel's impeccable penmanship.

Rachel motions for her to turn it over. She does, and reads: _dispose of this_

Rolling her eyes, Quinn mouths _really? _but she tucks it into her jacket pocket. Rachel nods approvingly.

* * *

She runs into Marley in the hallways entirely by accident. The other girl has her head buried in her locker, and Quinn is preoccupied with thoughts of her own until the locker door shuts, and she locks eyes with Marley.

"Oh! Hey," says Marley, smiling widely.

"Hi."

"Are you headed to Glee?"

Too late, Quinn remembers that not only she's forgotten there's Glee that afternoon but she's also forgotten about her assignment.

Perhaps she can cite early onset dementia.

"Damn. I forgot there's Glee today."

Marley looks amused. "Didn't Rachel remind you? She sat with me in History today just to tell me that."

Quinn mentally takes Santana off her shit list, and makes Rachel Public Enemy Number One. "Huh."

"She said it was the duty of the club captain. Usually, she sends mass texts or emails, so I was pretty surprised that she told me in person." Marley starts. "Oh! I almost forgot…"

Quinn watches, increasingly bewildered, as Marley opens her locker and pulls out a clear plastic folder. "She also asked me to fill this out and give it to you when I was done," she says, handing it to Quinn. "It's a travel partner compatibility quiz…?"

"She's insane," groans Quinn. "I'm so sorry my friends are insane."

"It's okay." Marley smiles at her again. "I think it's cool that your friends care about you so much."

"Or whatever they call caring," Quinn mutters. "I call it complete and utter humiliation." The thought of walking into Glee and having to deal with both Santana _and _Rachel, on top of not having her assignment ready…

"Quinn?" Marley stands in the middle of the hallway. "The choir room's that way."

"I'm not going," she says easily, and the words give her a thrill.

"You're not going?" Marley echoes, sounding dumbfounded.

"Nope." Quinn pops the 'p' with relish. "I'm not looking forward to seeing those idiots I call friends, and I also totally forgot about the assignment, so I'm gonna skip." The afternoon stretches out before her. She can finally finish _Life of Pi_ and move on to a new book.

Before she can take another step, an impulse strikes her. "You should skip too," she says, turning back to Marley.

"Huh?"

"We could get a coffee at the Lima Bean," says Quinn encouragingly. The more she talks, the more she convinces herself it's a good idea. "You could experience my driving and decide if going on this road trip was a bad idea or no."

The corner of Marley's mouth lifts. "Quinn Fabray, you're terrible."

"No, this is self-preservation. We're getting to know each other better, right?"

Marley shuffles her feet, adjusting her binder in her arms. "Shoot, okay," she says. "Let's go before I change my mind."

* * *

"This is yours?"

"Yeah," says Quinn, opening the door of the red Mini Cooper. "Present from my mom. She was trying to make up for letting my dad kick me out of the house when I got pregnant. The divorce settlement from my dad was really generous."

Marley blinks owlishly. "There's a whole lot to unpack in that sentence," she says diplomatically.

Quinn laughs. She pulls the seatbelt over her chest and clicks it. "Hey, you signed up for this. What you see isn't all you get."

"I'm kinda already invested in this now, so." Marley waves a hand at herself. "It's fine."

Quinn pulls out of the school parking lot. "Important question: what kind of music?" she asks, signalling left and merging into the main road.

"Very important," agrees Marley.

"Shotgun passenger gets to DJ. That's the house rule."

Marley grins, and pulls an AUX cable out of her bag. She plugs in her phone.

Quinn laughs when the familiar sounds of Florence + the Machine fill the car. "I think we'll get along just fine."

"You're a Florence fan too?" asks Marley excitedly.

"I wouldn't say that, but I do like her music. I listen to a lot of things."

Marley nods happily and starts rattling off a list of her go-to musicians and why. It keeps her occupied until they pull into a parking spot a block from the Lima Bean.

"I always thought that was a cute name for a coffee shop," says Marley.

"It could be worse," allows Quinn. Personally, she and Santana both live for the weekends when they can drive into Columbus and indulge in Starbucks. There's something about over-priced sugary coffee-flavored drinks (Santana's words, not hers) that makes them feel like the teenagers they're supposed to be.

"Our local shop back home was called Lone Star Coffee," says Marley, and wrinkles her nose.

"Let me guess. You were from Texas?"

"Yeehaw," says Marley in a fake Texan drawl. She mimes tipping a ten-gallon hat which causes both girls to burst into giggles.

Quinn smiles widely. She and Marley are getting along far better than she had hoped. She's just relieved that the chances of her road trip being ruined seem smaller.

Her phone vibrates. She glances at the screen to find a few texts from Santana:

**hey whr r u**

**r u skipping glee**

**u totes r**

**u bitch**

Quinn shakes her head. She's not about to dignify Santana with a response. But then she gets texts from Rachel, which frankly speaking, Quinn is more worried about reading.

_Quinn, please tell me you aren't skipping Glee._

_Santana's hanging on my elbow like a demented flying monkey. She wants me to inform you that she knows you've read her texts, and she wants you to reply to her._

_Marley's not here either. Are the two of you together? _

_NOT IN THAT WAY. AS FRIENDS. _

Quinn sighs and switches off her phone. She'll deal with the fallout later. But for now, Quinn's going to enjoy an afternoon devoid of her friends.

"I read through your itinerary," says Marley, over her iced chocolate.

"Okay?"

"It's pretty interesting." She reaches into her bag and pulls out – Quinn blinks in surprise – a printed copy of the itinerary. "Though to be honest with you, I would never have expected you to want to visit Nashville."

Quinn finds her cheeks heating up, against her will. "Sam talked about nothing else when we were dating," she explains. "I thought it would be a nice place to visit."

"Oh, I've got nothing against anything on the list," Marley is quick to explain. "I mean, even if I did, it's kinda impossible to change, right? I'm just the pinch hitter."

"You're a lot more than that. Marley, you're doing me a huge favor. I hope you know how much I appreciate this." Quinn clears her throat. "In fact, I wouldn't mind if you wanted to make any changes. This is gonna be our trip, so it's only fair you have some say in it."

Marley swirled her straw around her drink. "It's good as it is. As a matter of fact, _I _think it goes both ways. You did me a favor too, y'know. I've wanted to get out of Lima for a while – just go somewhere new and breathe, if you know what I mean." She laughs.

"I do. Really." Quinn sips her coffee. "I used to be a fat kid. For my fourteenth birthday present, I pestered my dad to get a transfer at work so I could start middle school in a new town where nobody knew who I was."

"You? Fat?" And Marley lets out an inelegant snort. Instantly, she goes beet-red and clamps a hand to her mouth. "Oh my god, I am so sorry."

"It's fine," says Quinn, starting to laugh herself. "Not many people know that, so… I guess it worked?"

"Yeah, I guess, but – oh god. I'm having such a hard time imagining you as a fat kid. You're like… the farthest thing on earth from that." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear; Quinn's eyes follow the movement. Marley seems to notice, because she grins sheepishly. "Sorry. You must be thinking that I'm the world's biggest dork now."

"I think that title belongs to Rachel, honestly," remarks Quinn.

"Aren't you two best friends?"

And Quinn smiles. "More like she's grown on me. You weren't around in our freshman and sophomore years; you didn't see how much we fought. God, we fought over everything there was to fight about and a few more – solos in Glee, her diva tantrums, Finn…"

"Wait, you and Rachel fought over Finn Hudson?"

Quinn laughs self-consciously. "Not our finest moment, but yes." She neglects to mention that they stopped because Rachel decided to focus on getting into college for the time being and she…

She just wasn't _that _interested in him in the first place. Or the entire male species, for that matter.

"I guess he can be pretty cute," remarks Marley. "Not my type, but I can understand the appeal."

Quinn responds with a noncommittal shrug.

Marley smiles. "My best friend lives near Austin," she says. "We Skype a lot. Mostly talking about school and books and music."

"Cool."

"Y'know, I'm really glad you think so," says Marley brightly.

Her enthusiasm is infectious. Quinn finds herself hopeful that everything will work out for the best.

* * *

Quinn makes the mistake of dropping Marley off at her house; she was supposed to meet her mom after Glee because Mrs Rose has the car, but Quinn convinces Marley that it would be no trouble at all to drive her home.

When Quinn pulls up in her driveway, she sees a familiar car parked in her driveway. She sighs.

"Hi, dear." Judy Fabray looks up from her book when Quinn walks into the house. "Your friends are already here. I sent them up to your room. "

"Okay, mom," says Quinn, defeated. She goes upstairs and opens the door.

"Alright, how did you guys get in here? Rachel, did you bribe my mom with cookies again?"

"Hello to you too, Quinn," says Rachel. "They were muffins, actually," she adds loftily. "While my cookies are good enough to make grown men weep – my fathers, usually – they're usually reserved for occasions when I need to apologize. Besides, your mom seemed very happy with my Aunt Sarah's award-winning mixberry muffins."

"I helped make them," pipes up Brittany.

"Still doesn't answer the first question."

"We're here for a sleepover, of course," chirps Rachel.

"What."

"Don't look at me," quips Santana lightly. She's filing her nails while sprawled on Quinn's bed, looking extremely disinterested. Quinn knows that's a lie; Santana is one of those people who thinks she's being subtle but is actually about as inconspicuous as a neon sign. "Berry seems to think this is mandatory."

"This is a bonding experience for Glee girls."

"I don't see Asian, or Aretha. Heck, even the guest of honor is absent," drawls Santana.

Rachel ignores her. She turns to Quinn, smiling in that frightening way she does. "By the way, I believe you have something for me."

Quinn sighs. She pulls the plastic folder out of her bag and hands it to Rachel. "Mandatory sleepover my ass," she mutters under her breath.

"Suck it up, Quittany," retorts Santana.

Brittany looks thoughtful. "Sounds like the power couple name for me and Quinn if we ever got together."

"Not that powerful. Cueball puts the Quit in Quittany. Sounds more like a shitty political slogan."

"Hush," commands Rachel. She sits herself at Quinn's desk, fishing the quiz out of its plastic sleeve. "I should go over the answers."

"Ooh, what's that?" Brittany hops off Quinn's bed and hovers behind Rachel, who shifts the chair so the taller girl can read over her shoulder. There's a popcorn bowl on the desk which Quinn didn't notice initially; as she watches, Rachel and Brittany both help themselves to its contents.

"Travel partner compatibility quiz for Marley," explains Rachel, then further elaborates for Brittany's benefit: "A list of questions I got her to answer so we can see if she'll be a good travel buddy for Quinn."

"Ooooh, she's filled out all of the lines allocated in the open-ended questions. And the pages I attached at the back for elaboration."

Quinn shakes her head. "This isn't happening."

"She seemed really nice in class today," says Rachel, munching on popcorn. She has a honest-to-God red pen in her hand as she tallies Marley's responses to the quiz. "I have a good feeling about her."

"Too nice," says Santana. She takes the popcorn bowl and helps herself to its contents.

"Santana, this is my popcorn."

"So?"

Rachel sighs. "I made two batches of popcorn: yours has real butter in it. Mine has my special vegan butter that you said tasted funky." She points at a bowl on the nightstand.

"Again, so?" She stuffs a handful of vegan buttered popcorn in her mouth. "Besides, that one's empty."

"I thought so," mutters Rachel.

Quinn sighs. She sits cross-legged on the bed, propping her elbow on her leg and her chin on her palm. "You're telling me you're all here because you wanted that travel quiz?"

"That, and we want the juicy deets on your date at the Lima Bean," says Santana.

"Ugh!" Quinn flings herself on the bed, arm over her face. Brittany pats her leg sympathetically.

"You're not squirming out of this one. Even with your Olympic medal and all."

"To be fair, you did skip Glee this afternoon," Rachel pipes up. "Consider this your make-up class."

"Just finish marking your damn quiz, Berry."

Santana snorts. "You know what? Fuck that noise." She stands up, snags the papers out of Rachel's hands, and rips them up. Rachel makes a choked gasp of outrage. "I don't need a piece of paper to tell that she's… low-key. Drama-free as a bowl of unsweetened oatmeal. And God knows you could use some of that in your life, Suzy-Q."

Quinn peeks out from her fingers to aim a kick to Santana's shin. "Oh, so she's not a serial killer then? Good to know," she says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"The Keebler elves, then the Trix rabbit. He's creepy," muses Brittany aloud. "I like Tony the Tiger, though."

"Serial killer, babe, like somebody who kills lots of people. Not breakfast cereal."

"Oh."

"My vote is for the Trix rabbit too," chimes in Rachel with a shudder, then adds, defensively: "Just putting it out there, since we're on the subject."

Quinn ignores her.

"Marley's nice." Brittany plays with Rachel's hair as she talks. "She always offers to help me find Mr. Munchkin when he decides to go on an adventure without telling me first. And she knows I like gummy worms, so whenever she has some, she offers to share."

Quinn glances at Santana, who snorts.

"If Britt says she's good, then she's good. Case closed. Now can we move on to more important things?"

"Quinn's road trip buddy _is_ important," says Rachel staunchly. She now sports the makings of an impressive French braid, courtesy of Brittany. "It's a major solo trip before college that will impact her social life and emotional state. It will shape her life experiences. Finding a compatible traveling partner is crucial to Quinn's enjoyment of her vacation." She stares, dismayed, at the remains of the quiz which are now in Quinn's wastepaper basket. "And you shredded my quiz."

"Shortstack, don't make me throw you out." Santana's eyes travel up and down the length of Rachel's body. "I'm sure all of Lima would love to see this disaster." She makes a derisive sound. "I didn't know they made pastel pink footie pajamas in your size."

Quinn groans. She starts _Bring It On _on her TV because she knows that's the only thing that will appease both Santana and Rachel (Santana likes looking at the girls, Rachel appreciates the dance routines) before there's actual bloodshed.

* * *

Quinn lies on her back, staring up at the ceiling. She's invested in this decision, more or less, and already looking forward to leaving Lima in her rear view mirror.

"Quinn?"

"Rachel, go to sleep," she whispers back.

"I knew you were awake," comes the muttered reply. There's a rustling as Rachel executes some kind of worm wriggle to move closer to Quinn. "Are you thinking about your trip?"

Quinn shut her eyes. "No," she mumbles, "I'm busy sleeping."

"Are you gonna tell Marley about, you know, your – "

"Don't say it," Quinn warns her.

"– sapphic tendencies?"

Quinn lets out a strangled groan. "I told you not to say it."

"Quinn, you know we love you, and we want you to be happy. I just want to make sure that you're comfortable with being yourself while in close proximity with someone whom you're not completely familiar with." Even though they're whispering, Rachel somehow manages to drop her voice lower. "I could make discreet inquiries on that matter, if you'd like."

"No, thank you, Rachel," says Quinn firmly, cutting off the rest of Rachel's sentence.

Rachel huffs. "Fine. Good night, Quinn."

Quinn relents. Rachel may be insane, but she's mostly harmless and Quinn can't deny the other girl only has Quinn's best interest at heart. She catches the edge of Rachel's sleeping bag as she's shuffling away. "I'm sorry, Rach," she says. "It's still hard for me to… y'know, have feelings."

Rachel snorts inelegantly; Quinn chuckles.

"I really am grateful that you're this concerned about me."

"Better," says Rachel. She grunts a little as she turns over to smile at Quinn. She looks ridiculous with the toggle of the sleeping bag pulled to her chin like she's some giant insect cocoon, but Quinn doesn't care.

"I… care about you too."

Rachel's smile widens. "Thank you for saying that. I'm proud of you, Quinn."

"Thanks." Her expression changes. "Please don't ask around. I'll talk to her."

"Okay, but are you absolutely sure? I've been told I'm very discreet when it comes to these matters."

"Very sure."

Rachel beams at her. She gets this expression that Quinn recognizes as the one Rachel has before she tackles people, pauses as she remembers that her entire body is safely encased in her sleeping bag, and does an awkward headbutt into Quinn's shoulder and stays there, forehead pressed into Quinn. Quinn is sure she's still grinning like a maniac.

The entire thing makes Quinn want to simultaneously laugh and facepalm. Instead she slings an arm around worm-Rachel in a loose barely-there hug, and says out loud: "You're such a dork, Berry."

"As someone who knowingly associates with a dork, that doesn't say a lot about you, Quinn."

"Oh, well," says Quinn as she rolls her eyes even though Rachel can't see it, "my loss."


	2. Cedar Point, Sandusky, Ohio

**Author's Notes: **You get this chapter early because **_Mike Ownby _**is very invested in this fic, and very zealous in making sure it comes back to me ASAP fully Americanized and beta-ed.

* * *

She kind of regrets the seven AM call time because Marley literally hops into the passenger seat of her car, ungodly cheerful for the time of day.

"Good morning!"

"Mmph," replies Quinn. She's no stranger to early rising, being a veteran of Sue Sylvester's Navy SEAL-approved fitness regimes, but she is most definitely not a morning person.

Marley holds out a brown paper bag and a Thermos flask.

"What's that?" asks Quinn, squinting at the offerings.

"Bacon-and-egg sandwiches and coffee. Mom made us breakfast. I know your itinerary said we'd be stopping at a drive-through, but she was really excited about our trip."

"That's not set in stone," replies Quinn, sheepishly accepting the food and coffee. Good lord, there's even a smiley face sticker holding the bag closed. "Thank your mom for me."

Marley climbs out and waves at her house – and Millie Rose waves back from the front door.

"That's it?"

"We have a schedule," replies Marley, clambering back into the passenger seat and buckling her seatbelt.

Quinn narrows her eyes at Marley as she tries to figure out if she's being sarcastic. Finding no trace, she sighs. "Your mom's right there, I'm sure we can spare a couple minutes to thank her."

"It's fine – " begins Marley, but then cuts herself off when Quinn awkwardly sets the things on the dashboard and gets out of the car.

Quinn starts up the walk, Marley behind her; Marley's mom meets her halfway. "Good morning, Mrs Rose," she says, offering her hand to the older woman, "thank you for breakfast."

"No trouble at all, dear." Quinn's hand is clasped between both of Millie's and heartily shaken. "It's Millie, a'right? I don't want to hear such formality from any of Marley's friends."

She smiles and nods, hoping it isn't as stiff as she feels.

"_Mooooom_."

"Bless the child, I'm embarrassin' her." Millie chuckles and releases Quinn, after a last pat to her hand. "You gals have fun! Stay safe, love you!"

"I love you too, Mom," says Marley, kissing the older woman's cheek while Quinn stands around awkwardly. Watching them interact makes her uncomfortable as they're the polar opposite of her and her own mother.

Once they're back in the car, Quinn is quick to unscrew the Thermos. She inhales the aroma deeply and sighs.

"I hope you like it," says Marley anxiously. "I made what you ordered at the Lima Bean the other day."

"_You_ made it?"

"Mom loves her coffee so we splurged on a good espresso machine."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," says Quinn diplomatically. As far as she can remember, Marley isn't a coffee fan and she wonders how she's going to be able to make a good cup of coffee. Quinn clears her throat and changes the subject. "Okay, a few ground rules."

Marley snaps to attention. "Ma'am," she says, suddenly serious.

The sudden change in attitude makes Quinn giggle involuntarily. "I'm not the most talkative person, so we're probably gonna have a lot of music on."

"Fine by me," says Marley happily. "I'm not that chatty too, honestly."

"Oh. Good." A little more tension bleeds out of Quinn's shoulders. "Next. We'll take turns driving."

Marley stares at her. "Wasn't that taken for granted when I signed up?"

"So you wouldn't mind if I woke you from a nice nap to take the wheel?"

Marley looks offended. "You wouldn't be so cruel." Her expression wavers. "Would you?"

Quinn laughs. "Ex-Head Cheerio. I literally wrote the textbook on being cruel. I learned from the best."

Marley gives an exaggerated shudder. It's so dramatic, it makes Quinn laugh, quite undermining her effort to keep her stone-cold Head Cheerio face intact.

"Go on. Put on some music," she says instead. "Shotgun passenger DJs."

* * *

The drive to Cedar Point is relatively smooth with little traffic considering it's the first week of summer vacation. Per her rules, they don't talk much and Quinn's secretly relieved; she and Marley are still acquaintances, and she doesn't feel comfortable enough to fill the silence with small (and inane, in her opinion) talk.

Marley lets out a whoop when the sign for Cedar Point comes into view, and Quinn arches an eyebrow.

"Sorry," says Marley. "I'm just really, really excited. As I'm sure you can tell."

She isn't exaggerating. Out of the corner of Quinn's eye, it does appear as though she's vibrating in her seat. "I'm glad you're excited." Quinn pulls into a parking space. "Santana picked this because she's a huge kid at heart."

"Personally, I think no one should ever be too grown up for roller coasters," says Marley gravely. She proves her point when she actually skips a little as they walk to the park gates, and Quinn snorts in disbelief. She'd pegged Marley as being mature and reserved when they'd talked at the Lima Bean based on the books and music they'd talked about; it seems like she's passed judgment too soon.

Santana, afraid that she wouldn't be able to ride all the coasters in one day, had talked Quinn into agreeing to buy Fast Lane passes for them both. She'd even used her allowance to buy the passes in advance; a decision that proved lucky for Quinn and Marley now.

"So, what now?" asks Quinn politely.

"Can we go on that?" Marley points at something called the Blue Streak.

Quinn eyes it appraisingly. The track is considerably smaller and shorter than the other rides in the vicinity, plus it's less crowded. However, there's just one problem…

… Quinn's never been on a roller coaster before.

Torn between nervousness and an obligation to compromise for the sake of having a pleasant holiday, Quinn makes a 'hmm' noise. "I don't know," she demurs, unwilling to refuse outright. She'll have to explain that she hasn't actually been on a coaster before, and Quinn feels it would be awkward to reveal it to Marley.

She doesn't want Marley feeling sorry for her, or worse: accommodating her. It's their trip, not her trip, and Quinn thinks that it'll ruin the entire thing if Marley were to defer to her.

It's a stupid concern, really. Nevertheless, Quinn keeps her mouth shut.

Marley studies her for a long moment. "... Okay," she says at length.

Quinn is surprised, to say the least. "Okay?"

"Okay," repeats Marley, giving Quinn a small smile. "I mean, this is our vacation. We can do anything we like. And if you don't wanna go on the coaster, then we won't go on the coaster."

"You could always go on it yourself. I could wait for you here."

"Where's the fun in that?" asks Marley, looking horrified. "There are plenty of awesome rides that aren't coasters here, we can always go on those." Marley points at a sign. "There's a pirate ship over there. Do you wanna go?"

Quinn knows how pirate ship rides work in theory. It has less range of motion than the Blue Streak – she winces internally when the cars race past, screams trailing in its wake. It's not as fast or precarious. She can work with that. "Uh, sure."

"Great!" Marley walks ahead, stopping every now and then to check if Quinn's following, which she is – albeit with much less excitement. "Pirate ships are classic and underrated rides, Quinn."

The ride is much less crowded than the Blue Streak, so within five minutes they're already boarding the ship.

"Where do you wanna sit?" asks Marley, looking up and down the rows of seats eagerly.

"Whichever is least nausea-inducing," answers Quinn dryly. "I'd like to keep that nice breakfast down, thanks."

Marley pouts – actually pouts, which Quinn finds is ridiculous for someone their age. Nevertheless, Marley directs them to the bench towards the middle of the ship and scoots along the polished plastic seat, joining a bunch of excited children. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah."

Before she knows it, they're off. Marley shrieks along with the children, much to Quinn's surprise; her initial impression of Marley is all but gone at this point. She isn't sure what means for the rest of their trip.

"Oh my god," says Marley after the ride ends. "That was so much fun. Where to next?"

"Um."Quinn spots a park map nearby and walks towards it. Quinn squints at the list of rides, aware of Marley hovering near her elbow. "This looks interesting," she says, pointing at something called Monster.

"That looks really fun, you're right."

Quinn smiles, pleased by the validation. "Okay, let's go."

Marley beams and heads off. Quinn follows her, pulling out her phone to text Santana as she goes.

_Cedar point is awesome thanks for ur passes_

Santana's reply is almost instantaneous.

**fuck u fabray**

Quinn smirks.

"What's up?" asks Marley as Quinn tucks her phone back into her pocket.

"Nothing. Just thanking Santana for buying us these passes," says Quinn innocently.

"Oh. Please pass on my thanks to her as well. Seriously, these passes are awesome."

"Yeah," says Quinn, as her phone vibrates constantly in her back pocket. Quinn is quite certain she won't be able to wipe the smug smirk off her face for a week at least.

* * *

"Oh my god."

Now that they're here, Monster looks a lot less small and a lot more like its namesake. Quinn feels tiny next to this gigantic metal thing that's whipping people around. Even as she watches, a teenager on the ride flies towards her and away again, looking distinctly green.

Quinn gulps.

Meanwhile, Marley looks like she's about to vibrate out of her skin with excitement. "This looks awesome!" she exclaims, looking left and right for the entrance.

"Uhm."

"Quinn?"

Quinn blinks and glances at Marley. "Yeah?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"You don't look that okay to me…"

"I'm fine," says Quinn. It comes out as a squeak; Quinn clears her throat and repeats herself. "Let's go."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure." And she leads the way towards the queue. The ride is slowing down, coming to the end of its cycle. There are a number of people in front, so they have another ride to wait before it's their turn.

Marley is still watching her intently. Quinn is uncomfortable under her scrutiny; she's used to ignoring Rachel when she's doing what she calls her mind-reading trick when she's trying to get Quinn to talk to her, but she barely knows Marley.

"When's the last time you went to an amusement park?"

"Huh?" Caught off-guard by the sudden question, Quinn's train of thought gets scrambled.

"I remember going to the state fair when I was in middle school in Texas," continues Marley. "I went on the mechanical bull."

"They let you on the mechanical bull?"

Marley laughs. "It was one of those junior bulls. Smaller than the regular ones, I think. Texas is weird that way."

Quinn gives a snort of laughter despite herself. "That explains it."

"They didn't have many things. A ferris wheel, a carousel, the usual fair rides. I guess I thought the bull was one of the more interesting things, even if I kept falling off."

"The first time I went to the state fair was because my parents forced Frannie – my older sister – to take me," says Quinn, then mentally kicks herself after. "I'm sorry, you probably don't wanna hear this. It's not a nice story."

Marley gives her an incredulous look that seems to say "you must be kidding me". "No, I would love to hear this story," she says. "Go on."

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

"Frannie was a high school sophomore back then. Brad Gilchrist, the football team's quarterback and the most popular guy at school, had just asked her out to the fair. She was determined to boost her popularity so she talked our parents into letting her go." Quinn laughs bitterly. "She didn't tell them it was a date, of course, so they agreed on the condition that she bring me."

Marley nods seriously.

"She parked me on a bench somewhere with cotton candy and made me swear not to run off or she'd tell our parents about the stash of junk food I had under my bed."

"And then? What happened?"

Quinn just laughs. "I ran off. I was nine and that was the first time I'd ever been to the fair, for God's sake. I got hopelessly lost, Frannie had a panic attack when she tried to check on me and I wasn't there, she had to keep Brad occupied while she tried to find me… it was a mess. Eventually, someone found me in the petting zoo. Frannie was furious. She called our parents and got them to take me home." Quinn shrugs a shoulder. "In the end, she got out of babysitting me and was still able to date Brad. And she told on me as further punishment for running off. I wasn't allowed to go to any more fairs until sophomore year when Finn brought me to one at Columbus. He wasn't a fan of coasters, though."

Marley is silent after Quinn finishes her story; so silent that Quinn becomes increasingly self-conscious. "That was," begins Marley slowly, "wow. I don't know what to say about your sister, though I'm sure it won't be very nice. I'm sorry that happened to you."

"It's okay."

The attendant opens the gate in front of them and people start to shuffle forward. Quinn's stomach lurches.

"Looks like it's our turn," says Marley. She leads the way to the closest virulently orange pod and climbs in first.

Quinn hesitates a moment before climbing in after Marley.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." Quinn takes a deep breath. This can't be any worse than Sue Sylvester's homemade high-G centrifuge machine – now _that_ was a nightmare. This is a ride that's meant to be fun. She grips the safety bar in front of her tightly.

The ride starts. They start to spin, going higher and higher with each revolution. Quinn's world is reduced to blurred colors and sounds, with Marley's excited shrieks in her ear the entire time.

Eventually, it slows. Quinn leans back in her seat. "Oh my god," she says.

"That was so much fun," laughs Marley, sounding out-of-breath beside her. "Though I am so glad we haven't had lunch yet."

Quinn snorts against her will. Adrenaline still runs through her veins. "Seconded."

* * *

Although she'd only agreed to Cedar Point because of Santana, Quinn's glad that it's the first stop of their trip; there's no chance for talking with all the activities and noise, and whatever small talk they squeeze in while waiting in lines is easy.

"Where do you wanna go next?" asks Marley after they tumble out of yet another thrill ride (some sort of giant swing, Quinn's brains are still too scrambled to recall).

"I need a breather," says Quinn.

"Okay. How about the train ride?" Marley points at the sign. "Coal locomotives _and _a tour of Lake Erie. How cool is that?"

Off the top of her head, Quinn can probably recite at least fifty things she thinks is cooler than that, but the excitement on Marley's face makes Quinn feel guilty for even thinking of saying no. "Okay," says Quinn. She even lets Marley pick a car close to the front.

She isn't prepared for the ride itself. She's mildly amused when Marley produces her phone and starts Googling the railroad. "Quinn, this engine is named Myron," says Marley. "So cool."

"Not Thomas?"

Marley pulls a mock-annoyed face at her. "Ha ha," she says.

The whistle blows, making them both jump. Slowly, the train chugs forward along the tracks.

Quinn relishes this opportunity for some quiet time. She admires the view as they move through the park.

"Today's been so much fun."

"I'm glad," replies Quinn.

"I'm probably embarrassing myself revealing what a dork I am, but I spent an hour on the Cedar Point website browsing through all the rides I wanted to go on last night," confesses Marley.

"Really?"

"Really. This is the first proper amusement park I've been to."

"I've never been on a roller coaster before," admits Quinn. She honestly doesn't know how that slipped out, but it did, and Quinn steels herself for the reaction.

Much to her relief, Marley doesn't react the way Quinn thought she would. "You haven't? Is there any reason why not?"

"Not particularly. It's just never come up. I've only been to the fair a couple of times on dates. All the boys wanted to do was to eat and play the carnival games." Finn was more interested in food, Puck just wanted to show off at the rifle range. Both boys were keen on the ferris wheel for the privacy to make out.

"Oh." Marley smiles. "That's not that bad."

"What do you mean?"

"I thought you were afraid of heights. But that couldn't have been the case 'cause you were okay with the thrill rides earlier."

Quinn winces. "I blame Sue Sylvester and her twisted idea of what constitutes a cheerleader training programme."

"It's that bad?"

"You don't know the half of it," says Quinn, and then frowns, distracted by what she sees out of the corner of her eye. "What the hell is that?"

"Boneville," says Marley happily. They watch – Marley excitedly, Quinn with barely suppressed horror – as the attraction plays out with scenes of American frontier life.

Once they chug past, Quinn shakes her head. This won't be one of the things she'll be telling Santana about. "That was so tacky."

"The tackiest," agrees Marley, "but so much fun."

Much to her surprise, Quinn finds herself agreeing.

"Sorry, what were we talking about earlier? Before we got distracted?" says Marley.

"Huh?"

Marley scrunches up her brow in concentration. "Roller coasters. Yeah. We were talking about – the Cheerios." Her eyes suddenly go wide. "Wait, you're telling me those stories Brittany told me about Cheerios practice weren't just Brittany being Brittany? They're actually true?"

"What did she tell you?"

"Something about a survival camp?"

Quinn winces. "Oh, that. The summer before junior year, Sue drove the entire team out to the middle of Kendrick Woods at midnight, gave each of us a Bowie knife and a compass, and told us that she'd see us back at McKinley for the first day of training when school started."

"You're kidding."

"I wish I was." Together with Brittany and Santana, it had taken the three of them two weeks to hike out of the woods and hitchhike back to Lima. "Anyway, that's not the main reason I'm okay with thrill rides. It's because of Sue's homemade high-G machine."

Marley starts to laugh. "She's insane."

"That's an understatement."

After the train pulls into the station with a last belch of smoke, Marley stands up. "We should go up front!"

"Why?"

"To take a photo with Myron!"

Quinn blinks. "Myron?"

"The engine, silly." Marley leads the way to the front where a blue overall-clad engineer is standing in the cabin. Much to Quinn's surprise, she strikes up a conversation with the man and hands him her camera.

"C'mon," says Marley, linking her arm with Quinn's. "Tom's gonna help us get a picture with Myron."

Quinn, too befuddled to resist, goes along with it. She smiles obediently as Tom snaps a few photos, and then Marley includes him in a selfie photo.

"Should we leave soon?" asks Marley, still scrolling through the photos in her digital camera. "It's getting late."

"What?" Quinn checks her phone. Marley's right; it's approaching evening. They haven't yet checked into their motel for the night. Quinn had planned on having an early night since they'll have a full day in Cleveland tomorrow.

Most of Quinn wants to agree. And yet…

"One last ride," she says, surprising herself. "Let's go on the Blue Streak."

"What?" Marley stops walking and stares.

"The last ride should be the most memorable, right?" says Quinn. "Go out with a bang and all. We should hurry up before I change my mind."

Marley just laughs and nods. "Yes, ma'am."

They reach the ride in under ten minutes, and the smiling ride attendant steps forward to give them the pre-ride safety briefing. Marley looks as if she's about to burst with excitement. "You ready, ladies?" he asks.

"Yeah!"

The cars pull up in front of them. Quinn eyes the boxy carts dubiously. "Does this look safe to you?" she asks, nodding at the single safety rail.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," says Marley. She grabs Quinn's hand – much to Quinn's surprise – and pulls her towards the back of the car.

"Don't you wanna sit in front?" Quinn barely gets out the words, too surprised by the physical contact and the force of Marley's enthusiasm.

"Quinn, all true roller coaster fans never sit in front. The back is the best place to sit. I looked it up on a coaster enthusiast blog." Quinn follows Marley as she clambers into the car; she's barely in her seat when the safety bar comes down over her lap. Quinn grunts.

"Why?"

"The first big drop is the best part of the ride," says Marley brightly. She has both hands on the front of the cart, fingers drumming an excited rhythm. "The rest of the train has already dropped by the time we get there, meaning we go down faster 'cause of the weight of the front. Plus, if you lift your knees just before we go down, you feel like you're freefalling."

Quinn wrinkles her nose. Her brain processes the math and physics but she still doesn't like what Marley's saying. "Oh."

Marley frowns. "Are you okay? We can get off if you want."

"You're joking, right?" The ride attendant comes over to test their safety bar. "We're already here. I don't think we could get off if we wanted to."

"We could if you don't want to ride," replies Marley firmly. "You don't have to force yourself." Her eyes follow the attendant, ready to flag him down at any moment.

Quinn opens her mouth – and closes it again. She's changed her mind; she can't do this, she wants off this rickety, ominous-sounding thing, but she also hasn't the heart to disappoint Marley. "I'm fine."

Her companion gets this determined look on her face. "You're sure?"

"Yes," says Quinn. She presses her lips together tightly.

The attendant retreats to the switchboard and flashes them a thumbs-up. He presses a button, and the entire thing jumps forward.

"Oh my God," Quinn mutters through gritted teeth. The train clatters and creaks ominously as it heads around the bend. "Is this made out of wood?"

"Yes," comes the answer from Quinn's left. Perhaps it's her imagination going into overdrive by the imminent adrenaline rush, but Marley sounds sheepish. "This is Cedar Point's oldest coaster."

"Great. Just great." Quinn flinches as the coaster approaches the hill. Loud clanking and grinding fills the air as the gears catch.

"Are you okay?" Marley yells.

"No!" yells back Quinn. She fights the urge to scream, at least until they're moving faster. By then, everyone will be screaming too. "Oh God." Quinn focuses on the people in front of her and not at their surroundings, which are getting smaller and smaller by the second.

By this time, they're halfway up the hill. Marley bursts into excited giggles as a pointed hut comes into view.

Quinn vows to make it out alive so she can force Santana into becoming her slave for the entirety of their college years for daring to suggest Cedar Point. "Oh. My. _Fucking_ – "

The words are forced back into her when the coaster speeds up dramatically, and her stomach flies up into her throat. Quinn shrieks as the wind roars in her ears. Her entire body is shuddering and vibrating, the cart around them threatening to break apart, the pressure on her thighs the only thing stopping her from a violent and gory death.

She has a brief reprieve when the coaster stops jiggling up and down and veers to the left. Quinn hears Marley squealing excitedly beside her. "I – " starts Quinn, and stops when she notices the series of hills ahead of them.

Quinn stays quiet for the rest of the ride, grimly holding on to the cart. It's slowing down considerably, and she mentally pats herself on the back for keeping the contents of her stomach down.

Marley laughs uproariously when the coaster finally slows to a crawl. "That was so awesome!" she exclaims, pushing hair out of her eyes.

Quinn blinks. Now that her world has slowed to a normal pace, she realizes that Marley is holding her hand – and she's clinging back tightly.

Marley notices her staring. "Sorry!" She lets go of Quinn's hand, smiling sheepishly. "You looked pretty freaked out back there. It was an impulse thing."

"No, it's okay." Quinn clears her throat. The ride is suddenly taking way too long to get them back to the station. "You just caught me off-guard for a moment back there; I don't even remember you grabbing my hand."

"Just before the first big drop." Marley grins at her sheepishly.

"Ah."

The attendant releases the safety bar once they've come to a complete stop. Quinn sighs in relief, flexing her thighs. She has never been so glad for solid ground again, and she was a flyer in the Cheerios. She clambers out of the cart and collects her things from the locker.

"That… wasn't as bad as I thought it would be," says Quinn.

Marley pumps her fist in the air. "_Yesss_," she exclaims. "You've been converted!"

"That was just one small coaster!"

"Baby steps!"

They're both giggling like demons now. Quinn feels floaty and elated, proud of herself for deciding to take the plunge – metaphorically.

"You wanna go again?"

Quinn glances at Marley, who has a mischievous gleam in her eye.

"Why not?"

* * *

Quinn's glad Marley hadn't objected to the small motel Quinn and Santana had booked. It was only for the night, Quinn had reasoned, and they'd be asleep for most of it anyway.

Most importantly, it was close by to Cedar Point meaning that she didn't have to worry about being too tired to drive after a long day. "Looks like the place," says Quinn, checking the map on her phone and the reservations for good measure.

"Mecca Motel," Marley reads off the sign, then glances at Quinn.

"Santana thought it was hilarious," she mutters. She neglects to mention she also thought it funny at the time. "And it was cheap."

Marley shrugs. "As long as the beds are comfy, I'm not complaining," she says, getting out of the car to fetch her bags from the trunk. She hands Quinn's things to her.

Quinn presents her reservation at the front desk, collecting a pair of keys. She holds one out to Marley, who stares at it in confusion.

"We're staying in the same room, aren't we?" she asks. "Why do I need another key?"

"It's just motel policy. In case one of us forgets our key and gets locked out."

Perhaps Quinn sounds more irritable than she thinks she did, but Marley does sheepishly take the key from her and tucks it in the pocket of her jean shorts. They stay silent until the elevator delivers them to their floor and Quinn unlocks the door with her key.

"Oh, fuck."

Marley's eyebrows go all the way up. Quinn doesn't notice, staring straight at the middle of the room.

"They gave us one bed?" Marley glances at Quinn. "Was it intentional?"

"I – no!" Quinn shakes her head, mildly outraged by what she thinks Marley is implying. "It clearly says two singles in the reservation. Those idiots. Can you hang on while I go down and get our room changed?"

"I can go down," offers Marley. "You look tired."

"I'm fine. And I'm pretty sure you're as tired as I am." Quinn can feel her good mood evaporating like water in a desert. "Besides, I'd like to give them a piece of my mind."

Marley giggles suddenly, surprising Quinn. "Is this one of the occasions the Head Bitch is useful?"

"Regretfully so." Sadly, Quinn picks up her suitcase and duffle bag. She's pissed that her sleep is further delayed and she has to go through the process of hauling all her baggage up and down again.

"Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

Marley clasps her hands together. "Okay, this is gonna sound like a really weird question, but… if it had been you and Santana here, would you guys have asked for a room change?"

"No," answers Quinn, slightly bemused. "Santana and I have seen each other naked in the locker rooms for years. There have been too many violations of privacy for either of us to care about sharing a bed, especially after a long day."

"Oh."

Quinn grasps what Marley's driving at. "You're okay with sharing a bed?"

"Well – to be honest, I wouldn't normally – no offence, but we barely know each other – but it's been a long day." Marley casts a long look at the numerous pillows piled at the head of the bed – easily a king size. "And I don't wanna lug all my things up and down. We'll be out of here in the morning anyway."

"None taken," she sighs. Marley's argument is simply her inner voice speaking aloud; Quinn finds herself caving. "You're sure it's okay?"

"Only if you're okay with it," comes Marley's hurried reply. She opens her eyes wide, clearly hoping Quinn will be.

Quinn makes a face. Truthfully, she couldn't care less whether she's sharing a bed with Sue Sylvester if it means she's getting a good night's rest as soon as possible. Compounded by the fact that Marley isn't Sue (or Santana or Rachel, for that matter), Quinn sees no reason to make it weirder than it has to be.

"Okay, then," she says, letting go of her things and flopping on the bed. Quinn bounces a little when Marley joins her.

"Yes!"

Quinn closes her eyes, relishing the comfort of the bed and storing up strength to go unpack her things when she hears a growl.

"Was that your stomach?"

"Yes," says Marley sheepishly.

"... do you wanna go get something to eat?"

* * *

Marley had been the one to ask for food recommendations from the front desk – a wise decision, Quinn thinks, since she's still likely to blast them over their earlier error. In any case, Quinn's hoping his suggestion of a 24-hour diner not far from here turns out to be good. It sounds like it's within their budget.

"I'm so hungry," sighs Marley.

Quinn arches an eyebrow. "Even after the hot dog and chili cheese fries you had for lunch?"

Marley grins sheepishly. "We don't have much money, so I eat dinners at home most of the time. Usually it's leftovers from school lunches. Junk food that Mom won't make is a real treat for me."

Quinn thinks back to her childhood of elaborate home cooking and adolescence of Cheerio diets. Although she can't really relate, she does sympathize with Marley. "You've got enough money on you, right?"

"It's fine. You don't have to worry about that, I can take care of my own expenses."

She has to pay attention to the road, but Quinn can't help but feel that the mood has changed for the worse. Luckily she spots the turn-off for the diner and pulls into the lot.

The inside is fairly packed for the time of night – presumably visitors drawn to Sandusky for the summer holidays. Quinn gets them seated at a small booth near the back. Marley has yet to say a word through all of it – with the exception of giving her order to the waitress when she comes.

Quinn feels bad. She knows Marley made an effort to accommodate her today. She also knows that something she said is responsible for this sudden change in mood – something that, frankly, she hadn't been expecting from Marley ordinarily.

She could just weather it out. It's only two weeks. They could fill the silences in the car with music and naps. They could fill their days with everything they've planned for this trip, and then go their separate ways at different colleges, never to talk again.

That was what old Quinn would have done. But this Quinn – the Quinn who's actually friends with Santana and Brittany and Rachel Berry – is different.

"Marley?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier," starts Quinn. Apologies are something she's still not used to, so she starts slow. "I didn't mean to imply that you wouldn't be able to pay your share of this trip – I mean, you wouldn't have agreed to come if you couldn't. You're doing me this huge favor by pinch-hitting for Santana so I can still go on this trip, and I'm not being fair to you at all."

Marley listens, expression neutral, to all of this. When Quinn finally comes to an awkward halt, Marley's gaze lifts to Quinn's. She smiles.

"Apology accepted," she says. "I'm sorry, too. I hear worse things tons of times; mostly, I just let it run off my back. I wasn't being fair to you either, but somehow it hurt more coming from you."

Quinn's face heats up. "Sorry."

"It's okay."

The waitress saves the rest of their conversation by choosing that moment to appear with their drinks. Quinn inhales the fragrant steam of her herbal tea, arching an eyebrow at the milkshake sitting in front of Marley.

"Like I said, indulgence time," says Marley without a trace of self-consciousness.

Quinn shakes her head. "That looks amazing." She's determined to keep the rest of their night as light-hearted as possible, and make the first day of their trip a success. It's an omen of sorts for the entire two weeks.

"You want some?"

"Maybe another day."

Marley just laughs at her.

* * *

It's late by the time they pay the bill and pile back into the car. "Let me drive," says Marley.

"You sure?"

"You've been driving all day. You could use a break, and I could use the short practice in case we end up in a ditch tomorrow when it's my turn at the wheel."

Quinn wrinkles her nose. If she was the superstitious sort, she'd be touching wood. "Don't jinx us. Here, you can drive. Do you know the way back?"

"Yeah, definitely. Even if I didn't, that's what the GPS is for."

She gives an involuntary snort of laughter. "I trust you to get us back to the motel. I wanna spend the night in a real bed and not a sidewalk."

"Funny, Fabray. Have some faith in me. I was the only kid in Wichita Falls to ace their driving test on the first try."

"You say that as though it's a big achievement," says Quinn, giggling.

"Well, it is!"

Quinn shakes her head. She's completely at ease with Marley now for some reason; perhaps it's the sugar high from Marley's milkshake (she'd somehow managed to coax Quinn into having half), or the warmth in her belly from their second dinner. It's possibly the Fall Out Boy now blasting from their car stereo through Marley's phone. "You know, before tonight, I didn't think it would be possible for someone to get drunk on sugar."

"Careful there. I have the keys and therefore all the power. I could make you walk back to Mecca."

"No!"

"Yes!" Marley finishes her adjustments of the seat and side mirrors.

"You're not that much taller than me," grumbles Quinn.

"No, but I don't understand why you like to drive like you're in a clown car." Marley turns the key in the ignition and pulls out of the parking lot. "God, I can't wait for a shower and bed. Dibs on the bathroom first."

"I drove most of today. My dibs go without saying."

"No, they don't."

They continue to squabble good-naturedly until they get back to the motel.

Once they get inside, Marley turns to Quinn and says: "Rock-paper-scissors."

"What?"

"We'll settle the bathroom issue with a duel, best of three," says Marley. She makes a show of pretending to roll up imaginary sleeves. "Winner goes first, then we'll alternate for the rest of the trip."

Quinn, who had been planning on letting Marley go first, agrees; she couldn't care less who wins and this method seems to amuse Marley tremendously.

Marley wins even though Quinn put up a fight; a gracious winner, she promises to make it quick as she disappears inside the bathroom.

Quinn pulls out her phone to find a missed call from Rachel. She calls back.

"Quinn!"

"Hey, Rach." As fun as the day was, nothing matches the quiet rush of ease when she hears Rachel's familiar voice. "Sorry I missed your call. What's up?"

"Nothing in particular. I suppose you were occupied earlier, but I wanted to ask how did the first day of your road trip go." Rachel's voice dips a little. "Is Marley with you? Are we able to talk privately?"

"She's using the bathroom," replies Quinn. She rolls her eyes even though Rachel can't see her. "Why – have you discovered her serial killer body dump?"

"Oh God, I'm sure I'll have nightmares about that tonight. Thank you for that, Quinn Fabray. No, I just wanted to ask if things are good. I can always go to wherever you are if Marley doesn't work out."

"Aren't you at voice camp now, Rachel?"

"I can always fake a vocal cord lesion. I did some research on the symptoms; it would be an excellent exercise of my acting skills, not to mention an interesting anecdote to tell at college."

Quinn shakes her head. "Please don't. Thank you for offering, it means a lot to me that you're being so… _invested_ in my well-being, but seriously, no." She pauses to consider her next words. "Marley and I… things are going pretty well. Great, even. We had a fun day at Cedar Point – we went on nearly all the thrill rides and even a roller coaster."

"I hope you didn't scream," says Rachel very seriously.

"I wouldn't dare risk injuring my voice," answers Quinn sarcastically.

"Good," says Rachel without a trace of sarcasm. "It's never too late to take proper care of one's voice, I always say."

"We just came back from a second dinner," says Quinn, ignoring Rachel. "I lost the rock-paper-scissors battle for who gets the bathroom first." She decides to omit the details of their sleeping arrangements because she doesn't have the energy or inclination to read into that, and anyway she doesn't trust Rachel with keeping it a secret from Santana. "We head to Cleveland tomorrow morning."

"That sounds like a promising start," exclaims Rachel. "I'm glad you had fun today, Quinn."

"Thanks, Rach." She feels like she's talking to her mom or a therapist. It seems to happen frequently when Rachel is involved, so Quinn doesn't read too much into it.

"Sadly, I need to go now. We're starting tomorrow bright and early and I need my rest if I'm to outperform each and every one of these summer stock cast members."

Quinn laughs indulgently. "You'll knock 'em dead, Rach. Go sleep. Good night."

"Good night, Quinn!"

* * *

Quinn spends a slightly longer time than necessary in the bathroom because she's uncertain what's going to happen next. The abstract idea of her sharing a bed with someone she barely knows had seemed fine up until this actual moment where it's happening.

Quinn steels herself. "It's only for one night," she says, and then exits the bathroom.

Marley is lounging on the side farthest from the bathroom with her phone. She has on a Hello Kitty T-shirt and flannel pants.

"I like your PJs," says Quinn very seriously. Perhaps Rachel has rubbed off on her more than she thought, if she's acquired the other girl's sense of humor.

"Thanks." Marley picks at her shirt sheepishly. "Mom went online shopping for the first time and wanted to surprise me with a gift. She did – she bought the wrong design. I wanted a Batman shirt."

"Now there's a bigger surprise." Quinn climbs under the covers, relieved at how the conversation went. "I'm sorry but I'm gonna sleep now. I'm exhausted after today and we've got a pretty busy day tomorrow. Tell me about that tomorrow?"

"No, you're right. I was just waiting up for you. I didn't think it would be fun for you to come out and tiptoe around the room in the dark, trying to be quiet." Marley suppresses a massive yawn with difficulty as she speaks. "I'm gonna turn off the lights now. Good night, Quinn."

"Good night," she answers, burrowing under the covers. She barely has time to set the alarm on her phone before she collapses onto the bed and falls asleep.

* * *

**End Notes: **The diner they go to is Dianna's Deli and Restaurant (no joke).


	3. Cleveland, Ohio

**Author's Notes: **This chapter was a struggle to write. Major thanks to **_Mike_ Ownby**; the act of sending him half-baked drafts generates an actual product fit to post.

* * *

Quinn wakes tentatively at first, and then all at once upon remembering where she is and who she's with.

It's morning. That much she can tell from the light filtering through heavy curtains. Her brain is still a little foggy, though, and that's all it's capable of at the moment.

"Mmph," says Quinn. She sounds croaky to her own ears.

Quinn's next thought is her phone, so she attempts to look for it. Funny though, how her body is heavy and sluggish and refuses to respond to her commands.

It takes a bit more squirming before she realizes that's not her body she's looking at. Marley has an arm slung over Quinn's middle (thus preventing her from rolling over to retrieve her phone) and her face close to Quinn's pillow. She's also snoring quietly, though that's the least of Quinn's problems.

Quinn doesn't panic; she's used to this now. Rachel is – for lack of a better word – a clingy sleeper, and they've had enough sleepovers together for Quinn to not freak out whenever there are invading limbs in her personal space. And since Marley is nowhere near Rachel's Kraken-taking-a-ship-down level of clinginess, all this physical contact is barely a blip on Quinn's radar – even taking into account that she isn't as familiar with Marley as she is with Rachel.

Quinn stares up at the ceiling and takes a deep breath. "Marley," she says quietly, "are you awake?"

A gentle snore answers her. Quinn sighs. "Goddamnit."

She shifts. Marley's arm is heavy – not such a surprise, after everything she watched the other girl consume yesterday – and she has to inch out since the other option is flinging Marley's arm back at her. She won't do that. They're friends now.

Though, Quinn thinks she'll have to reconsider her definition of friendship if she's going to let every irrepressible, cheerful girl she meets get past her defenses.

The process of climbing out is slow so she doesn't disturb Marley. At least, she _hopes _she hasn't disturbed Marley's sleep. Quinn finally extricates herself and takes her phone in hand. It's nearly seven, about time for them to be getting up anyway. Quinn should really wake Marley.

But she doesn't.

* * *

"G'mornin'."

Quinn has a toothbrush sticking out of her mouth, so she just nods in reply. Marley has a splendid case of bed hair that she doesn't look remotely self-conscious about. Quinn spits into the sink and says: "I'm almost done, could you give me a minute?"

"Yeah," says Marley in a Texan accent.

Quinn frowns, perplexed.

"S'fine, I need t'get my things anyway…" Marley trails off as she shuffles back outside, newfound Texan drawl and all. Quinn decides not to comment on it.

* * *

They opted for the motel's buffet breakfast because Marley asked for it, and Quinn decided to oblige her. Breakfast seems to be a very important meal to Quinn's road trip buddy, judging from yesterday's brown bag.

"Is that all you're getting?"

Quinn glances at the heaping plate Marley sets down on the table. "It's a buffet," she says, amused, "you're allowed to go back for seconds or thirds." She also notes the accent from this morning has vanished, but decides to save the questioning for after breakfast.

Marley doesn't look the slightest bit self-conscious. "I know," she answers, tucking into her scrambled eggs. "I was just asking."

Her breakfast looks boring compared to Marley's generously-loaded plate. Quinn focuses on buttering her toast.

"So… Cleveland." Without waiting for an answer, Marley plows on: "I've heard that Cuyahoga County is beautiful, so I'm really looking forward to that. Not to mention the architecture and all… Euclid Avenue, Terminal Tower."

"Yeah, I'm excited too." Quinn can rest easy as she knows for a fact that there are no Blue Streak-type surprises out there for Marley to spring on her. "Though I didn't know you were an architecture fan."

"I wouldn't call myself that. More like… I think some buildings are more awesome than others." Somehow, as she talks, Marley manages to consume half her toast. "But you know what I'm excited for? The Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame."

Quinn's smile slips a bit. She hopes Marley didn't notice. "Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame?"

"Yeah! I mean – yes." Marley squints at her. "What, didn't you know it's in Cleveland?"

"I think I read it somewhere," replies Quinn. Truthfully, it's one of the reasons she wanted to put Cleveland on the itinerary, but Santana gave her so much shit over it that she removed it from the current version of the plan. "Maybe if we have some time, we could go check it out."

Marley nods eagerly.

"Anyway," says Quinn, changing the subject, "I'm sure you'll have some other places you're more interested in? Or we could take our time on Euclid Avenue, y'know. The weather forecast said that today's gonna be sunny."

"I suppose." Marley scrapes her plate clean. "Excuse me." She goes back to the buffet trays.

* * *

Just after they've loaded their bags into Quinn's car, Marley holds out her hand for the keys. "Let me drive."

"It's fine."

"Nah, I, uh… I kinda owe you for this morning."

Quinn suddenly becomes very interested in the cement pillar next to the car. "What do you mean?"

"Um, I know that you like your personal space but I…" Marley trails off, and then clears her throat to try again: "I'm sorry for crawling all over you this morning. Oh, that sounds terrible. Ending up on you? Molesting you in our sleep?" She winces.

"How did you know?"

"You're not as stealthy as you thought you were, but that's okay! I mean – I was on top of you." Marley claps her hand to her face. "Shoot. That sounds even worse."

"I think I get the general idea," says Quinn dryly. She hopes she isn't blushing as much as Marley is, but it's not like Marley can see her, with her hand covering her face.

Marley cringes. "Okay. Good. Then I'll shut up now. And wait for the ground to swallow me up. Any moment now."

"Please don't. We still have another two weeks of vacation." Quinn's eyes twinkle. "As for the – sleeping arrangements, I'll let it go if you explain where that Texan accent in the morning came from."

"… No, you know what? This is worse." Marley throws up her hands. "Fine. I'll drive today, and uh, I'll explain."

Smirking, Quinn hands over the keys to her Mini, and the girls switch sides. Marley climbs into the driver's seat, tweaking the levers ("I thought we'd established that you're really not _that _much taller than me," says Quinn sardonically) and getting comfortable.

It's not until they're barrelling down the highway, the morning sun blazing, that Marley says: "The Texan accent is a lot harder to shake than you think."

"I wouldn't know for sure," replies Quinn, tone deliberately innocent.

"It used to be a lot worse. Like – yeehaw, pardners, let's saddle up ol' Betsey kind of worse," says Marley, the twang suddenly apparent. "I got bullied a lot for it."

The mention of bullying always makes the back of Quinn's neck get hot and prickly. She still has trouble acknowledging what she used to be, and an uncomfortable Quinn tends to run away from her problems. "I'm sorry that happened to you."

"S'okay. Mom paid for a speech coach." Marley smiles. "She was the one who got me interested in singing."

It occurs to Quinn then that she's never heard Marley sing solo. "You can sing?"

"Duh," says Marley. "We _are _in Glee club and all." They exchange a look, then burst into giggles.

"Yes, of course, but you know what Rachel's like; most of us are just background vocals for her one-woman show." It's an exaggeration; Rachel's gotten a lot better – some days, she even offers other people solos _and _enjoys their performances – but it makes Marley laugh. Quinn leans back in her seat. "Maybe you'll get the chance to sing solo one day," she says, almost to herself.

"Maybe," replies Marley. Her eyes are on the road, flicking to the GPS on her phone occasionally, but she turns her head to smile shyly at Quinn when they've stopped at a traffic light.

Quinn is strangely enthralled. Marley has a different attitude about singing than everyone else; Rachel has never been modest about her talent. Santana's confidence – as great as her voice – borders on cockiness. "Don't _you _want a solo?"

"Well – sometimes, yes. But the thought of standing alone onstage with all those people watching…" Marley trails off and laughs nervously. "I love singing, but not so much performing. Even singing in Glee freaks me out a bit." She clears her throat. "What about you?"

"I've had my share of solos. Honestly? I like duets better."

Marley glances sideways, her eyes bright with curiosity.

"It's…" Quinn searches for her words. "When you're singing solo, everyone's attention is on you. You're singing for the audience, and they're listening to you sing. But with two people, things get… _complex_. Those two people are singing for the audience, but they're also singing to each other, and that's another performance that the audience sees. There's a whole other dynamic there. I guess. I don't know," she finishes, flustered.

"Wow. I've never thought about duets that way, but you've got an interesting point," says Marley.

Quinn feels self-conscious. That was the first time she'd ever shared her thoughts on that topic. "Can I put something on?" she asks.

Marley nods.

* * *

Since they need to be on the road to Cuyahoga early the next morning, Quinn had opted for a motel outside of Cleveland (it helps that it's a lot cheaper than anything else within the city center). However, Quinn is a little concerned that driving in and out is tiring for Marley.

"You should let me drive."

"I'm good," says Marley. "You can take over after we stop for gas."

"Fine."

"... Which should be in about fifteen minutes."

"What?"

"We _have _been driving a fair bit." Marley sheepishly signals left, and turns into the gas station.

Quinn stares in dismay at the dashboard and the fuel indicator pointing at E. "Oh, crap. I knew there was something I forgot to do before we left Lima."

"It's all good. Oooh, I have a points card for this company." Marley pulls out her purse. "I'll cover it, and you can put it on our gas tab. Cool?"

"Yes, alright."

"Do you want anything from inside?" She nods at the convenience store.

Quinn is tempted. It's getting hot, and the thought of an icy-cold lemonade is very appealing. "No, thanks," she says eventually. "I'm good."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

* * *

Quinn is glad that she insisted on driving back into Cleveland from the motel; Marley is completely distracted, her face practically plastered to the passenger window as she takes in the sights.

"So I was thinking," begins Quinn, "that we could park somewhere central and walk around – "

"Millionaires' Row!" bursts out Marley.

Quinn blinks in surprise.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to say it like that." The other girl looks sheepish. "I meant – that sounds great. I was – I'm really – excited to see Cleveland."

"I couldn't tell," replies Quinn. She keeps her tone light, not wanting her travel companion to think that Quinn's being cruel or sarcastic. "So… Millionaires' Row it is." She spots a turn-off for a local mall up ahead and pulls into the lot.

She knows the stereotypes people have of high schoolers. People expect Quinn, the beautiful and blonde head cheerleader, to be shallow and self-centered. Not many people know that Quinn's been a member of the National Honor Society since her freshman year. She's also a bit of a history nerd – the main reason why Euclid Avenue is on their itinerary.

And yet Marley's enthusiasm comes to the fore. Quinn is surprised to find Marley knows quite a bit about the mansions they walk past, the illustrious men who lived in them, and even tidbits of trivia.

"I didn't know you were so knowledgeable about Cleveland's history."

Marley shrugs and smiles. "It's a little embarrassing. Honestly, I was so thrilled you already put it on the itinerary 'cause I wasn't sure how I was gonna ask if we could put it in."

Quinn is unsure how to respond. She could admit how much of a history nerd she is and ruin her image. Or she could play it cool and pretend Santana picked it like what she did with Cedar Point. Instead, she turns the conversation back to Marley.

"Are you a fan of Charles Schweinfurth?"

Marley gives a snort of laughter. "No. I – oh, this is so embarrassing." She pauses in front of Trinity Cathedral, looking up at the austere spires. "My dad died when I was three. We didn't have any other family, so it was just Mom and me when I was growing up. She worked two jobs just to make ends meet. When I was eight, I got it in my head that I was gonna grow up to be a millionaire and take care of her, so I asked her where millionaires live." Marley smiles at the memory. "She said they lived in a big mansion on a street full of other millionaires."

Quinn listens attentively.

"I did some research and found out Millionaires' Row existed." Marley shrugs. " I thought that one day, I'd go see it for myself."

"... That's a nice story," says Quinn sincerely.

"It's _embarrassing_," insists Marley. "But it's okay. You're stuck with me for now, so you'll just have to deal with it."

Quinn wants to say that there's nothing to _deal with_, and that Marley is easily the most uncomplicated person she's friends with (not like that's a difficult achievement given Rachel and Santana and Brittany and the rest of Glee). But she just smiles back at Marley.

She keeps smiling even when Marley whips her camera out, and demands they take a selfie in front of each of the mansions.

"What on earth are you gonna do with all these photos, anyway?" asks Quinn.

"They're good memories!" She looks up from where she's browsing through the photos they've just taken. "I'm not gonna lie; it's an accomplishment when I can take a good selfie without using a front camera."

Quinn lets it go.

* * *

Presumably because she's dominated most of the morning, Marley lets Quinn pick where they're having lunch.

"Anything?"

"Anything," says Marley.

"Anywhere?"

"Anywhere."

"Okay," Quinn says with a smirk. "Takeout burgers back at the motel."

Marley stares, speechless. "You're sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. I wouldn't say it if I wasn't." Truthfully, Quinn wants an early night. They've got a long day in Cuyahoga National Park tomorrow, and they _did _do a lot of walking in Cleveland today. Not to mention Quinn wants some quiet time to herself and her book.

She can picture it now; enough takeout to last them for lunch _and _dinner. Perhaps she'll finish _Do Not Say We Have Nothing _today and make significant progress with her summer-before-college reading list. A long hot shower, and then bed.

Quinn realizes Marley is saying something, and tunes back in.

"Sorry, I was just a little surprised. No offence, but you don't look like the burger and junk food type."

"Marley, we ate junk food all of yesterday and it was fine," replies Quinn. "It's summer vacation. Based on what Frannie tells me, we'll be eating worse when we're in college. I think we can afford not to have salads and sandwiches for two weeks."

"Frannie?" Marley asks, clearly brushing aside whatever Quinn was saying. "Your older sister?"

"Yeah. She went to Ohio State."

"Cool."

"Yes," says Quinn. She's a little on edge. Frannie has always outshone her, outperformed her. She was born perfect, unlike Quinn and the hard-earned veneer of perfection she wears. Her father had always been harder on her for that reason.

An uncharacteristic silence falls in the car. Quinn darts a curious glance sideways at Marley, waiting for the next question about her life; Marley pays her no heed, busy scrolling through her phone.

She is relieved. Talking about Frannie makes Quinn feel simultaneously proud and jealous. Talking about Frannie with Marley is something that Quinn is still surprised that she was able to do.

"Hey, there's a pretty good burger joint just around the block."

"How do you know?" Quinn is grateful for the break in her thoughts – and that Marley didn't question her further.

She holds up her phone. "It's got loads of five-star Google reviews."

Quinn arches an eyebrow. "Good enough for me," she says, and follows it with a smile. "Shall we?"

"It's not takeout, though…"

Quinn rolls her eyes. "We don't need to eat takeout."

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

* * *

"Uhm, Quinn?"

"What?"

Marley clams up as the host greets them. She doesn't say another word until they've both been seated with their menus, their waitress has introduced herself, and gone to fetch them some water. "This place serves beer," she hisses behind her menu.

Quinn is unfazed. "Really? I wasn't aware. No wonder they're called Nano Brew. Also, I'm unclear how you managed to miss that, given that we're here because someone said this place has tons of five-star Google reviews."

"You're not funny," grouches Marley. "I was distracted by the food photos. Anyway, are they even allowed to serve us? We're underage."

"Are you telling me that you've never drank?"

Marley slowly turns red; Quinn watches, fascinated, as the color creeps up Marley's neck.

Quinn decides to spare her. "It's not a big deal if you've got a fake ID."

"That's illegal, isn't it?"

"Only if you're caught having one."

Their waitress chooses that moment to return with their water, and ask for their orders. "I'll have a Prosperity, please," says Quinn. She ignores the incredulous looks Marley keeps shooting her from across the table.

"Certainly, miss. I'm gonna need to see your ID, please…?"

Quinn, ever conscious of Marley's eyes on her, takes out her purse. She slips the plastic card out and hands it to the waitress, who inspects it. "Thank you, Miss Stark," she says, and returns it to Quinn. "And for you, miss?"

"I'll have a grape soda, thanks." Marley's attention stays on her companion. The instant the waitress is gone, she rounds on Quinn. "What just happened?"

Quinn shrugs. "I ordered a beer."

"You know that's not what I meant…!" Marley is quite clearly having a major meltdown. Quinn sighs.

"Marley, relax. It's not a big deal. There's no reason to be freaking out. You'll be driving later." She pauses to shoot a hard look at Marley. "And if you continue freaking out, you'll blow my cover."

Marley stares at her, and then exhales. "God. My mom's gonna be so mad."

"Your mom? What are you, five? Are you gonna report everything that happened on this trip to her?"

"Of course not," snaps Marley with surprising viciousness.

Quinn blinks at her, completely taken aback. She doesn't know how to react; a small part of her is saying that she should be the first to apologize, but her mouth stays shut and her hands are folded in her lap.

Their orders come and sit steaming on the table. Quinn sips her beer, the original point of contention. It's delicious, of course, but it sits heavy in her stomach. She doesn't like the guilt eating at her. Quinn's learned enough for her to recognize it for what it is, but that doesn't mean that she has to be mature about it. Besides, this is the first time she's had this problem. Rachel would've made amends by now, Santana would probably cuss her out, and Brittany was simply too innocent to stay mad at.

"I'm sorry," says Quinn, surprising everyone; most of all, herself. "I didn't mean to snap at you like that." Her fingers fidget in her lap. "You just… I know I'm not supposed to have that, but I didn't like being called out like that. It made me feel like I was a kid."

"No, you're right." Marley shakes her head. "There's nothing wrong with that."

Quinn arches an eyebrow. Marley giggles.

"Okay, apart from the underage drinking… it's not like you're gonna get drunk and then drive us. I know you're mature and responsible enough for that, ironic as it sounds. You kinda surprised me, that's all."

"By having a fake ID," deadpans Quinn.

"By having a fake ID," echoes Marley. "And whipping it out, cool as you please, on the second day of our road trip."

"Let me guess – you don't have one, and you've never drank alcohol."

Her companion nods.

Quinn nods. "Not too late to start your teenage rebellion," she says; with a surreptitious glance around, Quinn slides the mug over to Marley.

"Quinn!"

"One sip won't kill you, I swear. The cops won't bust us, I know they have better things to do than arrest underage drinkers."

Marley stares at the mug. "This isn't on the itinerary."

The innocuous statement causes them both to crack up. They dissolve into laughing fits so hard Marley starts to choke; she reaches for the nearest drink to calm herself down with – which happens to be Quinn's beer. Her eyes widen as she realizes what she's drinking; Marley swallows quickly and makes a face.

"Well," says Quinn eventually, "I don't know if that was the most pathetic or the most awesome act of teenage rebellion I've ever witnessed."

Marley's complexion goes red and patchy. "Oh my god," she says, and buries her face in her hands. "Oh my god."

* * *

"And now," says Marley, "the Hall of Fame!"

Quinn squints at her. "The Hall of Fame?"

"Can we?" It's ridiculous how much Marley resembles a puppy when she wants something.

The other girl just shakes her head. "No wonder you powered through downtown and insisted on an early lunch."

"Oh, come _on_. Don't you just wanna go?" Marley's voice drops. "Elvis. Prince. Queen. All the greats in one place."

Of course, this is precisely why Quinn wants to go; she just has a different set of artists in mind. "Is this gonna be like you and Cedar Point all over again?" asks Quinn, partly joking.

"I promise I'll behave," replies Marley in that same, playful tone. "I mean – you should be safe. No rollercoasters there for me to drag you on."

Quinn shakes her head.

* * *

She enjoys herself immensely, of course; Quinn finds it hard not to, when Marley's around.

Apart from the small squabble they have about whether Leonard Cohen deserves to be in the Hall of Fame or not (Quinn is aghast that Marley has only ever heard cover versions of _Hallelujah_; she knows exactly what will be playing in the car for the next week or so).

Marley, bewildered by Quinn's undying love for Motown, proposes a music trade where she will start listening to The Supremes and James Brown if Quinn agrees to try listening to folk rock.

Quinn is less than enthused about it.

"Damien Rice? You're kidding me, right?"

"Hey, I'm listening to your picks so it's only fair."

"But… _Damien Rice_." Quinn isn't whining. She doesn't whine. She merely expresses her dismay politely but in no uncertain terms.

"You gave me two picks of yours. I only have one. Therefore Damien Rice it is."

Quinn rubs the bridge of her nose. Even (after hours of training courtesy of Quinn) _Rachel_ can be deterred when she gets particularly militant with her obscure musicals. The puppy metaphor comes to mind again; a stubborn puppy with a favorite chew toy. It makes her smile.

"There's a Damien Rice cover of _Hallelujah_, if that makes you feel better," says Marley. "He sang it when he was inducting Leonard into the Hall of Fame."

"... It _really_ doesn't make me feel any better." Quinn suddenly narrows her eyes at Marley. "This is revenge for the beer, isn't it."

"I have no clue what you're talking about, Quinn."

* * *

They need to stock up on food for their hiking trip in Cuyahoga tomorrow. Marley wrinkles her nose at the amount they're buying – and Quinn is still emptying out the shelves into their cart.

"We're only going for half a day, right? Why do we need so much?"

"Trust me, this is what we'll need for half a day."

Marley sighs. "Cheerios?"

"Cheerios." Quinn thinks of the long route marches that they've embarked on, with Sue in the back riding in her Wrangler, barking orders in her bullhorn.

"Frankly, I'm shocked that Sue's not in jail."

"Won't happen. She's got dirt on every politician and cop in the state, at least." In their junior year, Quinn and Santana, as the two ranking Cheerios, had been put to work building a new cabinet to house all Sue Sylvester's files. Suzy Jones' Locker, as Santana had dubbed it.

Marley sighs. "It figures. That would explain how Cheerio routines regularly include military-grade ordnance."

Quinn snorts. "I was half-joking. About the food. Most of these are snacks for the road."

"Yeah, I know that," replies Marley casually. "It's just rare for Quinn Fabray to be joking, that's all."

"I don't think I like what you're implying." She feels more comfortable around Marley now, for some reason. Enough to show off the dorky side of her that she fears has gotten worse because of Rachel.

* * *

In the end, Quinn's dream sort of comes true. Dinner is sandwiches in their room, Marley engrossed in a show that's playing on the crackly-sounding TV, Quinn with her book.

"Are you following that show?" asks Quinn, squinting at the screen.

"No," says Marley cheerfully.

Quinn decides not to ask. She finishes her chapter and slips her bookmark inside, setting the book on the nightstand. "We should turn in soon," she says. "We have an early start tomorrow."

Marley pretends to pout – but the effect is ruined when she yawns widely. "Fine," she mumbles. "I'm beat from all the walking anyway."

Quinn is glad that they have twin beds this time, and that the receptionist didn't mistake them for a couple. She can't imagine having to explain herself.

"I'll put Damien on while you sleep," says Marley mischievously. "You can get a head start on your homework. I would totally count subliminal listening as part of the deal."

"Don't you dare!"

* * *

Quinn awakens to the inky blue-black sky of the late night. Or early morning. She stretches, marveling at how awake she is at this ungodly time of day; she has never been a morning person, but she was also a Cheerio for the bulk of her high school years.

She slips from bed and starts her morning ritual. Her phone's weather app predicts a fine, sunny day today, so Quinn picks khaki capris and an old Camp Sommers T-shirt to wear. A checkered flannel shirt – to keep the morning chill out – goes over it as an afterthought.

The flannel shirt is a last-minute gift from Santana. Quinn hates the flannel lesbian stereotype, which is precisely why Santana gave her one.

Sometimes, Quinn wonders why she doesn't just throttle Santana and be rid of her for good. No one but Brittany would miss her.

Her beat-up sneakers go into her bag, and are replaced by equally well-worn hiking boots. She packs up the last of her personal things.

All that's left to pack is Marley.

The other girl's phone goes off. Marley mumbles something incoherent, turns off the alarm, and rolls over.

Quinn hesitates. She's unsure if she needs to wake Marley up; this is the first time they've needed to get up this early, and she's not sure if Marley is a morning person or not.

Suddenly, Marley sits bolt-upright, causing Quinn a minor heart attack. "Oh god," she says, voice still heavy with sleep, "it's time to get up."

"...Yeah…?"

Marley vanishes into the bathroom. Quinn busies herself with her phone as she waits. She sends a few texts to Santana because her alert tone is obnoxious, and Quinn rather likes the idea of waking Santana up so early on a summer vacation morning for no reason. She can't do this to Rachel because the only concession the shorter girl makes towards the holiday is to wake up at six AM (a whole hour later than her usual time).

She tried to prank Rachel once; Quinn set Rachel's phone back a whole hour. When Rachel found out, she thanked Quinn for "helping her make the most of her waking hours and thus being supportive of her Broadway ambitions".

Quinn knows better than to prank Rachel now.

Marley reappears in shorts and a button-up cotton shirt, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. "Ready," she says brightly. The transformation from risen corpse to up-and-at-'em is startling, to say the least.

"Cool," replies Quinn. She slides off the bed as her phone chimes – presumably with obscenity-filled texts from Santana. She smirks. "Let's go."

"Who's texting you so early in the morning?" Marley's expression goes from curious to mischievous. "Someone special?"

"Ugh, no!" says Quinn quickly, "_definitely _not." Then she realizes it's a little too vehement, too early, and backtracks. "I meant – I'm single at the moment. It seemed like the logical thing to do before we all split up for college." Internally, she facepalms at how stilted she sounds.

Marley, however, seems to take her seriously. "Yeah, I agree. Long-distance relationships are kinda hard, and if you're in different cities and dealing with college..." She shrugs. "Sounds like a heckuva lot of emotional baggage."

Quinn tries not to sigh in relief. "It is. Especially dating in McKinley."

"Tell me about it."

* * *

Quinn feels more alive in the woods than she's been in months. She takes a deep breath the moment she exits the car and smiles.

"Ready to go?"

"Yes!" Marley pauses. "You're leading, right?"

Quinn nods. Sue's survival training and half-remembered camping trips from childhood make her the de facto leader on this hike. She fishes a map out of her bag. "I planned for us to hike the Plateau trail because it's pretty short and not that challenging."

"Sure."

"So…" She jerks her head at the dirt path. "Shall we?"

* * *

The climb is invigorating. Quinn relishes the familiar burn in her calves, and resolves to maintain her fitness regime in college. She pauses on a small ledge to admire the view and check the time.

After a few minutes, she realizes that Marley isn't wheezing behind her, but is wheezing much further back on the trail.

"Are you okay?" Quinn calls.

"No!" Marley yells back.

Quinn tries not to laugh. "We could take a break here if you want." She checks the map as she waits for Marley to catch up.

Marley grunts, a very unladylike sound. She shifts her backpack onto the ground and bends over, hands on her knees.

"Are you okay?" Quinn asks again.

Marley turns bleary eyes on her. "No," she says, deadpan. Her long hair, tied in a utilitarian ponytail, hangs limp in the heat. Her shirt looks damp with sweat. "I'm dying. You said this was not that challenging," she says, tone a trifle accusatory.

"It's a _plateau_, not a mountain."

"Potayto, potahto."

Quinn arches an eyebrow. "I'm guessing that means you're hungry. The picnic area is a little way further down the trail, though."

Marley groans.

* * *

"Finally!"

Marley flops down at the nearest table, rummaging for her water bottle.

The only concession Quinn's made to the physical exertion of hiking is removing her flannel shirt and tying it around her waist. Although she's not exhausted, she does welcome the rest.

"The breeze feels wonderful," groans Marley. Without warning, she peels off her shirt. She's wearing a thin white tank top underneath, and it clings to her skin in ways that grab Quinn's undivided attention. She has to force herself to look away for fear she will be caught staring, a hot blush decorating her cheeks.

She's hopeless. At least Quinn already knows that, and has accepted it. She spent sophomore year watching Rachel's legs whenever her ridiculously short skirts rode up. Junior year was a phase in which she tried to deny what she already knew (and snuck glances at Brittany while she danced). And she knows for a fact that all the boys (not just herself) couldn't keep their eyes off Santana.

(Cheerios was different, because everyone was already watching everyone else. Sue had her spies throughout the squad to make sure no one was cheating on their strict diets.)

Marley props her hands behind her and leans backward. "This is so much better," she says happily.

Quinn tries not to agree too enthusiastically.

"Aren't you hot?"

"... No?" The word has very different connotations in Quinn's overactive imagination.

Marley seems to sense Quinn's confusion, because she hastily adds: "I mean – you're wearing long pants. I'm in shorts and a tank, and I'm still roasting."

"I'm fine."

"Oh, good. I'd have thought that you were okay with showing a bit of skin, because of the Cheerios uniform. I mean, you guys wore them all the time."

"Not all the time," says Quinn dryly. "We had special Cheerio-branded pajamas for bed."

Marley snorts in a very unladylike fashion. "You're kidding."

"Okay, yes. But just because I wore the uniform all the time, doesn't mean I'm comfortable with showing off skin." Quinn doesn't know how to put it into words; that what the Cheerios uniform lacked in fabric, it made up for in social status. It gave her more confidence than armor. When Quinn walked down the hallways of McKinley, she knew all eyes were on her and her uniform.

Outside of McKinley and Cheerios, she's just Quinn Fabray; hot gay mess and soon-to-be Yale freshman.

But Marley nods. "I get that. Being part of something big is empowering."

Quinn smiles. She's glad that somehow, even when she's a hot gay mess, Marley does understand what she's trying to say.

* * *

They've slowed their pace, out of consideration for Marley's lack of physical fitness. Quinn finds the stroll enjoyable; there is a lot to appreciate that she might have missed had she been focused on pounding through the route.

For a while, the only sound is of their footsteps in the dirt path. They walk through the woods and suddenly, Marley lets out a squeal.

"A pond!"

"Yep."

Marley speeds up her pace. Her pack is shucked to the grass as she whips out her phone and starts taking photos.

Quinn shrugs. She thought she'd be used to this by now (even though it's only day three) but Marley's child-like enthusiasm makes her smile.

Then her mind flashes back to the memory of Marley in her white tank top. _Definitely not a child_. Her face flames; Quinn hopes it can be blamed on the afternoon sun.

"Quinn!"

"Hmm?"

Marley flops on the grass. "Can we stay here for a while? The weather's so nice."

"I thought you wanted to, quote unquote, get this freakin' hike over and done with so you can go back to appreciating nature from behind a window," Quinn says teasingly.

"Okay, fine. But in all fairness, I did not know there was a pond on the agenda when I said that," groans Marley.

"It wasn't on the itinerary," replies Quinn.

Marley props herself up on her elbows to stare at Quinn, before she bursts into laughter. "Oh my god. That was hilarious. You're hilarious. You're never gonna let me live that down."

Quinn allows herself a smile. "I never said that."

"Ugh." She lies back down, pillowing her head with her hands.

Heat makes Quinn drowsy; it always has. She lets herself doze in the sunshine.

"Quinn?"

"Mmm?"

"I have a confession to make."

Quinn's heart leaps into her throat. "Go ahead," she manages to say casually.

"I do like outdoor activities; I just don't get much opportunity for them." Marley has a blade of grass between her fingers which she plays with. "Mom was always too busy, and we couldn't really afford summer camp. I'd be helping her out anyway, either in the school cafeteria or her catering gigs." She flicks the grass away. "That was the main reason Mom insisted I go on this trip."

Quinn isn't sure how to respond. Mostly because she had been bracing herself for something quite different. "So, I'm guessing you really are enjoying this hike?" asks Quinn.

A smile splits Marley's face. "Yeah, definitely. The sun is nice, this pond is awesome, and the company's not half bad, either. Which reminds me – you're pretty good at this outdoors thing."

"My dad used to take me on daddy-daughter camping trips," says Quinn. "He really wanted sons, but he got Frannie and me." She doesn't mention that he only started bringing her when Frannie got older and refused to go, complaining about having to sleep in the woods with bugs.

"That's nice."

"I suppose." She had loved those trips; she got her father's undivided attention, and it was a rare chance to earn an approving smile when she landed that rainbow trout like he'd taught her, or managed to start their campfire on her own. Quinn had always needed to work a lot harder than Frannie to be perfect in his eyes. "Whatever my dad didn't teach me, Sue did."

"Like bear hunting?" Luckily for Quinn, Marley seems to understand when to pick up on Quinn's unsubtle changes of topic fast.

"Like how to disassemble and reassemble a shotgun in under a minute."

Marley sits up straight. "I know I shouldn't be surprised by Coach Sylvester's ideas of cheerleader drills by now, but I am."

"Sue loves her firearms. Come to think of it, Santana may be right and Sue was trying to create her own personal army." It was the conclusion she and Santana had arrived at after they sorted out Suzy Jones' Locker. Granted, they were both very drunk at the time, but it wasn't as far-fetched if you knew Sue Sylvester.

"Really?"

"Like, who could be as physically fit and well-trained as Navy SEALs but more ruthless? High school cheerleaders."

The other girl snorts. "Okay, you have a point. I've seen your performances."

That got Quinn's attention. "You have?"

"Yeah. Mom and I drove over to Columbus to deliver an order last year. Turned out it was next to the stadium you guys were having Regionals in." Marley grins bashfully. "We hung around to watch a bit of your routine. You're really good."

"Oh. Thanks." Quinn remembers that competition well. It was her last as Cheerio captain (but she hadn't known that at the time). It was also the only routine they had performed that season that hadn't been choreographed by Sue. Quinn says as much, and Marley blinks at her.

"You're serious?"

"Yeah." Quinn's gaze flicks to the grass and stays there. "I'd been captain for three years straight then, and I was tired of just doing what Sue said to do like a robot. I knew the squad's strengths and weaknesses, what motivated them, their fears… they wanted to do something that was entirely ours. And as captain, it was my responsibility to make that happen."

"What happened? I mean, obviously you guys won because you were National champions last year. For three years running."

Quinn shakes her head. "Sue took all the credit, of course. She told everyone it was her idea, and that she believed in independence and all that."

"Figures."

They lapse into silence after that. Quinn lies on the grass and watches clouds streak across the sky.

She hadn't gone back to Cheerios for her senior year. She'd simply had too much to deal with; coming to terms with what she was, cornering Rachel in the bathroom, everything that had unfolded after that… It was a major miracle that Sue had allowed her to turn in her uniform and captaincy without consequences.

Perhaps it was too much to hope that Sue had a human heart, but Quinn thinks that incident was the best proof that it existed sometimes.

Quinn checks her phone. "We should get going soon, if we wanna make it to Ann Arbor before nightfall."

"Oh, sure." Marley sits up, as does Quinn. "But before we go…"

"What?" Quinn's hand hovers in mid-air, reaching for her backpack.

"We have to take a photo."

"Marley, you took tons of photos when we got here."

"I know, but I meant one of us _and_ the pond!"

"Fine. Where do you want me to stand?"

"Here! Right next to me and the pond." Marley laughs at her. "Thanks for being simultaneously obliging and grouchy at the same time. It's cute."

Quinn finds herself speechless. Again. Marley is busy with her camera settings and doesn't notice.

God, if she's going to be this huge of a mess whenever Marley says something innocuous, she's not going to last the entire two _weeks_.

"Okay! Smile!"

Quinn was planning on just standing still beside Marley like they had done when they'd taken photos together. But she feels an arm around her shoulder, and the camera clicks.

"You blinked," says Marley. "Another one?"

This time, she is prepared. Her hand goes tentatively to the back of Marley's shoulder, and she's actually ready for the camera.

Marley hums, pleased. "This one turned out much better."

Quinn peeks at Marley's phone. Her smile is a little plastic – and luckily no one but her will know how awkward her hand's position is since it's hidden from view – but… it's a nice photo. The first photo where they're touching each other, not just standing side by side. Marley's arm is around her, and Quinn's actually leaning into Marley.

They look like they're friends. They look like they're a _couple_.

"Yeah, it's nice," Quinn says distractedly, busying herself with her backpack. "We should get going."


	4. Ann Arbor, Michigan

**Author's Note: **Still truckin' on. Thanks to _**Mike Ownby**_, this draft didn't malinger in my Google drive for another month or so because I couldn't think of anything to write. Here's hoping he'll be able to pull that of until this story's done, cheers

* * *

"Quinn!"

Quinn's smirk is barely suppressed. "Yeah?"

Marley's eyes flick between the road and the radio. "Just how many verses does this song have!"

"I'm sorry, was that a question?"

"God!" Marley exclaims. Her hands twitch on the steering wheel.

Quinn tries not to laugh. She'd never intended to torment Marley like this; she'd only thought Leonard Cohen's music would be ideal to distract herself from her thoughts. And since Marley had no reverence for the greatest song of all time, it made sense to put _Hallelujah _on.

The full version, naturally.

"This is the song that never ends – literally!"

"Oh, it ends. There are just seven verses."

"Seven!"

"Leonard originally wrote fifteen," says Quinn sweetly. She pretends to be focused on her phone, when in reality she's watching Marley slowly lose her mind – yet remain focused on driving.

Marley briefly risks their lives to glower at Quinn. "If you thought this aural warfare was gonna make me forget about Damien, you thought _wrong_."

Unfortunately for Quinn and her teenage hormones, _aural _and _wrong thoughts _were exactly the triggers she did not need. "It was worth a try," she says lamely, now feigning deep interest in the view from the passenger window. Perhaps if she concentrates hard enough on the trees, she'll actually be able to stop thinking about Marley in her tank top…

Damn!

"I get to choose the next song," announces Marley.

"Shotgun seat is the DJ. Those are the rules."

"Those were the rules before you put on the song with seven freakin' verses!" Marley takes her eyes off the road again to glower at Quinn. "You know what? We're swapping over at the next rest stop."

Quinn just smirks. "While you were talking, the song ended. And since I didn't get to enjoy any of it, I'm restarting it."

"No!"

* * *

It amuses Quinn greatly that Marley made good on her threat and pulled over at the next gas station they found. Funnily enough, Marley insists that she does need to take a bathroom break regardless of song choices, and so pulling over is completely necessary. Quinn takes that at face value; she just smirks, though; it's her new favorite facial expression because of the effect it has on Marley.

It's not exactly the effect she _wants _to have on Marley, but still. It's something.

Somewhere on the road between Cleveland and here, Quinn had decided that she'll allow herself these little thoughts about Marley for the duration of the trip. Sure, she knows it's unhealthy and unrequited, but the amount of time she'll be spending with Marley has its limit. Before she knows it, she'll be in New Haven and Marley will be in New York, and this crush of hers will be something they can laugh at over glasses of wine at their ten-year high school reunion.

And if anyone wants to lecture her about repression (the little voice in Quinn's head sounds a lot like Rachel), Quinn doesn't need to hear it; she's the uncrowned queen of repression.

Just ask anyone who knew her in sophomore and junior year.

Marley marches back from the bathroom. "We are putting Damien on now," she huffs at Quinn.

"Okay."

"And you are gonna listen."

"Sure thing."

"You will not doze off."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Quinn taps the steering wheel. "I _am _driving, after all. It would be bad if I dozed off."

Marley narrows her eyes at Quinn. "Are you mocking me?"

"Absolutely not," says Quinn cheerfully, and pulls back onto the highway.

* * *

Quinn's getting used to the routine now; roll into town, find their motel, check in, dump their things.

She's considerably excited for Ann Arbor. There are plenty of things she has planned here, and there's no Santana to bribe/bully into compromising. Quinn would have been apprehensive about letting her nerd flag fly in front of Marley, but Cleveland has mostly erased her worries.

But for now, there's her phone buzzing angrily at her as Santana sends text after text in their group chat. Quinn idly scrolls through the messages. Without her around, Rachel and Santana seem to be at each other's throats more frequently.

Marley laughs. She has her phone out as well, face-timing with someone called Wade, who Quinn assumes is the best friend in Austin, judging by how familiarly they talk to each other. Marley has also regained her Texan drawl, which Quinn resolves to tease her about later.

Marley notices her looking. "Hang on, boo," she says into her earpiece mic. To her roommate, she asks: "Quinn? Am I being too noisy? I can go outside if you want."

"No, it's fine. I'm not doing anything that needs quiet anyway." Quinn glances at her phone. Rachel is online now, and is responding to each and every one of Santana's texts methodically. She puts it away and reaches for her book.

* * *

"Do you wanna drive again, or shall I?"

"I'm thinking we haven't finished that Leonard Cohen album…"

Marley makes a face. "Okay, you drive." She hands the keys to Quinn.

As they pull into the parking lot, Marley comments: "You know, I did some research on this place after seeing it in the itinerary."

"Oh?"

"I did a lot of research, actually; I have to say, I wasn't expecting half the places on the itinerary to be places you'd pick."

Quinn shrugs. "So I'm a closet nerd. I'd tell you not to spread it around in school, but nobody'll believe you anyway."

"No! I mean… I think it's cute." Marley's eyes widen. "Cool! I meant to say cool. Sorry."

It's the second time Marley has used that word to describe her, and Quinn thinks she might be able to not hyperventilate the more times it happens. "You think it's cool I'm a nerd?" Quinn asks desperately.

"Yeah? I just think it's really cool when people are so passionate about niche things, and it's fun listening to them talk about their interests with so much detail." Marley tucks a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear. "Their enthusiasm is cool, especially when they're talking about something you never knew was a thing, but you end up being sold on it too 'cause the nerdiness is catching."

Quinn jerks her head at the entrance to the Kelsey Museum of Archaeology, which they're still standing in front of. "Even ancient history?"

Marley shrugs her shoulders. "Sure. History's cool." She follows Quinn inside, fishing out her purse. "I've always liked ancient history more than the modern stuff."

Quinn nods. "I'd have to agree with you on some fronts, but I've always found the Cold War to be one of the most intriguing periods in modern history." She pauses, narrowing her eyes. "I see what you're trying to do, and no, it didn't work. Number one, you're not paying for my ticket: and number two, you can't anyway because admission's free."

"Darn. And here I thought I'd found a good opening." But she slips a couple of fivers into the acrylic donation bin under Quinn's nose. "Whoops. Hand slipped. Now let's check out all that history you've been talking about."

* * *

There are many, many reasons Quinn has for visiting. The main one, however, has its own dedicated space carved out among the amphorae and bas-reliefs and sculptures.

Quinn takes her first few steps into the space. She lets out a breath she hasn't been aware she was holding.

"Wow," says Marley from somewhere to her left.

"Yeah," replies Quinn. She doesn't need to wax lyrical about the exhibits here like she has for the earlier part of the gallery; the watercolor paintings speak for themselves.

She feels a nudge to her elbow. "Tell me about this," says Marley.

Quinn frowns. "All the information's there," she says, pointing to the plaque.

"I want to hear it from you." Marley grins at her. "I'm sure you'll throw in some trivia too; it's like my own personal tour guide. Much more interesting than an information board."

"Really?" She arches her eyebrow, making her voice as dry and sarcastic as it will go.

"Uh, yeah." Marley gives a little, awkward laugh, but much to Quinn's surprise, she doesn't back down. She continues watching Quinn intently, a small smile on her face.

Quinn sighs. "So, this is a watercolor replica of a famous series of wall paintings found inside a mansion excavated in Pompeii. The mansion is called the Villa of the Mysteries because…"

* * *

"So… why Pompeii?"

Quinn sighs. "Now I get why you offered to buy us ice cream," she says, "you wanted me to talk. This is a bribe," she adds, waving the vanilla cone at Marley.

"Hey, whatever it takes to get you to talk."

Quinn scrunches her face at Marley, making her laugh. "I was a fat kid," Quinn begins. "I spent a lot of time indoors reading. But even before then, I longed to get out of the small town and see the world."

"One of the places I most wanted to see as a kid was Pompeii." Quinn smiles at the memory.

"I can get that," replies Marley. She swings her legs as she eats her ice cream. "It was tragic but incredibly fascinating, having an entire city disappear under volcanic ash and then be preserved until the present."

"Yeah, that. Pompeii is the best source of info on what the ancient Romans were like. Everything else that's survived isn't that accurate. Like, you know that mental picture we get of ancient Greek and Roman white marble statues? That's actually false; they painted their statues in gaudy, garish colors."

"Get out." Marley, who's finished her ice cream by now, gnaws on her cone.

"I'm serious! People just like the aesthetic of pure white statues even though we know that's inaccurate." Quinn snorts. "_The New Yorker _wrote a great article about it; I've got it bookmarked, I'll link you." She pulls out her phone.

Marley brushes her hands off on the back of her shorts and retrieves her phone from her back pocket as it chimes. "You've got a _New Yorker_ article about Greek and Roman statues bookmarked on your phone?"

"It's good," says Quinn defensively. A hot blush steals up her face.

"I'm not judging or anything. I just think it's interesting that you've got something like that bookmarked." Marley briefly scrolls through the page. "I'll read it," she says, tucking her phone back into her pocket.

Quinn is charmed despite her best efforts not to be. "Thanks," she says. "I appreciate that. You know, it's been a while since I've geeked out that hard." She leans back on the bench. "Archaeology was part of the reason I got into books, in a way. My mom told me that archaeologists had to get PhDs to do what they do, and that meant a lot of reading, plus I liked reading anyway so…" Quinn shakes her head. "When I was older and learned what archaeologists _actually _do, I was a little disappointed. I thought Indiana Jones was real."

"When I was a kid, I wanted to be a millionaire, so you're in good company," Marley quips. "But archaeologists are still pretty cool. And a lot more realistic than being a millionaire."

The corner of Quinn's mouth twitches upwards. "It's not too late to switch." She stands up. "Ready to move on?"

"Yeah." Marley follows Quinn back on the path. Their surroundings are quiet, with only the occasional passerby. "Michigan U is an interesting choice of tourist destination," remarks Marley. "Are you coming here this fall?"

"No, I'm going to Yale."

She hears a sharp intake of breath. "Ivy League? You're kidding, right?"

Quinn arches an eyebrow. "I've been lecturing you about ancient history all morning. I linked you an article in _The New Yorker _about the myth of whiteness in classical sculpture that I happened to have bookmarked. I don't think my attending an Ivy League is such a stretch."

"Yes, but I already knew you were smart," says Marley. "I'm just… wow. I didn't know just _how_ smart."

"Thanks? I think?"

"I'm sorry, I think I'm coming off as sounding dismissive. I'm really not."

"I know," says Quinn. She smiles, irritation quite gone. Marley is the type of person who can't be rude even if she tried. "I thought that it was obvious, y'know?" She waves a hand. "Like, what normal high schooler puts an archaeology museum and a college on a summer holiday itinerary?"

Marley pouts. "Don't make fun of me. Being an ancient history nerd doesn't always translate to being a super-smart Ivy Leaguer, Quinn." It's obvious in the casualness of Marley's tone and the way she nudges Quinn's arm as they walk that Marley's joking. "I mean, savants exist…"

Quinn chokes in mock outrage. "I resent that."

Marley pretends not to hear. "Are we going for a campus tour? Or are we gonna keep on walking in aimless circles until you've, like, memorized the entire campus layout for totally non-savant-y purposes?"

"Aimless circles sounds good." She doesn't actually want to learn more about the campus history or its distinguished alumni. It makes her feel like a student, and she's determined to enjoy her complete freedom while she can. Right now, she's simply soaking up the atmosphere of being associated with a college.

Marley catches up to her a little farther along the path. "I'm keen so long as you promise there are no mountains and we'll get out of here eventually."

Quinn shakes her head. "I think I liked you better when you were afraid that I'd throw a slushie at you."

"Honestly, I think I'll be more afraid of you now. You could quote Ovid at me or something like that."

"You're ridiculous."

"And _you're _a nerd. Ooh, is that a gift shop?" And Marley's gone, hurrying towards the glass doors.

"Gift shop?" Quinn echoes incredulously. "You're kidding me!" She quickens her pace to catch up with Marley.

"The M Den," coos Marley. "That's so cool." Out comes the camera and she snaps a photo of herself outside the shop.

Quinn pulls a face. She makes sure she's nowhere within the camera's field of vision.

"Quinn, look at this." Marley holds up a T-shirt, giggling. "_Keep Calm and Go Blue_," she reads the printed legend.

"I never pegged you for the tacky souvenir type," Quinn says instead. She eyes the stack of T-shirts dubiously.

"I totally am." Marley folds the shirt neatly and adds it to the stack. "Now I know you're a nerd, and you know I have terrible taste in merchandise. _Quid prod quo_, and all that."

"That's… not exactly what it means," says Quinn, but it's too late; Marley's off again, looking at a jar filled with lapel pins with the school crest.

"I bet your room is crammed full of horribly tacky things."

Marley pauses. "I couldn't afford it," she says, but her tone lightens. "Kind of a good thing, really."

Quinn chews on her lower lip. She's horrible at banter without coming off as being unintentionally cruel.

Marley doesn't seem to be waiting for an answer, however; she turns her attention to a teddy bear dressed in graduation robes, poking its tummy and chuckling.

"I'm done, let's go," she announces once she's made a round of the shop.

"Hang on." Quinn picks a T-shirt off the stack and pays at the counter.

"I thought you didn't like tacky merchandise," says Marley curiously. She stifles a laugh when she sees the design Quinn picked.

"I don't. But you do." Quinn hands the paper bag to her.

"For me?"

"Yeah." Quinn feels suddenly awkward, like her stomach is full of lead. "Helping you start your tacky collection for college."

Slowly, Marley takes the T-shirt out of the bag. She holds it out. The legend _Keep Calm and Go Blue _stands out in gold lettering on the navy fabric. She finally meets Quinn's eyes.

"Thank you."

* * *

"I'm looking forward to this," announces Marley to no one in particular. Much to Quinn's mixed annoyance and delight, Marley's changed into her new T-shirt already.

"What, lunch?"

"It's not just any lunch. It's _Zingerman's Deli_."

"Yeah, Santana put that on the itinerary. She said it was good sandwiches or something, and I didn't see any reason not to keep it on there." Quinn, knowing Santana as well as she did, had also done some vetting of her fellow ex-Cheerio's additions to the itinerary. She doesn't mention it; her casualness seems to offend Marley, and she's enjoying it.

"Quinn-it's-not-just-good-sandwiches!" Marley exclaims, her words tumbling out in a rush.

They turn the corner, and find the queue for Zingerman's stretches around the block despite the summer heat. Marley visibly deflates a little.

"What?" Quinn gestures at the queue. "It's not that bad. We'll probably be able to get our food in like… an hour, tops." She tilts her head, squints at the packed street.

"An hour!" Marley throws up her hands. "We've got a packed schedule."

"Hey, I'm sure the food is worth it," says Quinn. She darts in line, narrowly beating out a disgruntled teenager. "C'mon, stand in line. Do you know what you're gonna get? I'm sure the menu is online."

Browsing through the menu takes up all of thirty minutes, and they've only shuffled forward a few people in that duration.

"I forgot to ask where you're headed for college."

Marley smiles at her. "NYU. I'm hoping to major in business."

"Oh, you'll be in New York with Rachel and Kurt then. They'll be attending NYADA." Quinn suddenly feels very lonely.

"I've heard of it. It's a pretty prestigious school for the performing arts," says Marley admiringly. "But Yale's in Connecticut, isn't it? You can always drop by for term breaks. Or, I could go visit you. I heard New Haven's pretty nice."

"You'd come visit?" _You'd stay friends with me after this? _is the real question Quinn wants to ask.

"Duh," says Marley, and laughs. "We're friends now! Plus, not meaning to brag but I _am_ pretty good at maintaining long-distance friendships. Wade calls me tenacious and says that's the nicest-sounding word he knows for what I really am."

"Wade?"

"My best friend. He lives in Austin. He got accepted to NYU too, so we might consider getting an apartment together if we can find more people to room with."

Quinn smiles. A mental image pops into her head; of Marley, laughing, surrounded by equally happy faces. It suits her. "That sounds really cool."

Marley grins sheepishly. "Yeah, it does. Can't lie, I'm really excited for college but I'm still terrified. I've never been away from my mom for longer than a few days, I'm gonna miss her so much."

Missing one's parents is an alien concept for Quinn, who has wanted to be away from them – and succeeded – for as long as she can remember. Nevertheless, she smiles and nods along with Marley. "It is a little intimidating, leaving home for college. Especially in a city so far away."

Marley rallies fast. "I'm planning on being super busy," she says. "That'll help stop me being homesick. Probably volunteer at a shelter or take up some extra-curriculars." Marley scrunches up her face. "Something music-related, obviously."

There are plenty of tidbits Quinn can follow up with. She picks the safest. "Volunteering? With animals, you mean?"

"Yeah," says Marley, and laughs. "I love animals so much, I'm not even joking. Other kids dreamed about running away to join the circus; I wanted to be the new Steve Irwin. We couldn't afford a pet when I was growing up, though; and I spent my summer holidays working for my mom instead of volunteering with our local animal shelter because she needed all the help she could get."

Quinn is starting to hate how this sad undertone creeps into Marley's voice when she talks about how her family's lack of money caused her to miss out on so many things. It makes her feel guilty for how much she used to hate her life; what the Fabrays lacked in normal family dynamics, they more than made up for financially. She packs all of this back into its box in her mind. She's not ready to talk about any of this; not yet, at any rate. "My parents didn't like animals. Once, I brought a stray kitten home and my mom freaked out because she said it was crawling with diseases."

Marley gasps. "What happened to him?"

"She drove us to the local animal shelter to drop him off. Once we got home, she made me thoroughly sterilize everything that he touched, including myself." Quinn winces at the memory.

"Oh." Marley's mouth twists, like she's trying to keep her words prisoner. "You didn't have any pets growing up, at all?"

"Do school bug projects or county fair goldfish count?"

"Not to me." Marley waves a hand. "Bugs and fish can't really return your affection. And you can't stomp home after a bad day, hug your bug, and feel tons better." She bursts into giggles at her own joke.

"I beg to differ," replies Quinn. "I found stomping my bug much more therapeutic than hugging it." She enjoys the shock and horror in Marley's expression.

"You're joking."

"I don't joke," says Quinn, her lip twitching. She's unable to control herself a moment longer, though, and finally bursts out laughing after a few more tense moments.

Marley shakes her head. "You really got me going for a while back there, you kidder," she says, and lightly punches Quinn's arm.

"Really? I mean, do I look like the kind of person who stomps on bugs to make me feel better?" The question is light, joking; Quinn knows, however, there was a time in their sophomore year Rachel would have answered yes to the question without hesitation.

"Just a little. Your poker face is terrifying, by the way; just so you know." Marley pretends to wipe sweat from her brow. "But now that I know you better, you're way too nice for that."

While they were engrossed in conversation, the queue continued to inch forward; Quinn is pleased to find they're only two people away from ordering. She points it out to a pleased Marley.

But to Quinn's surprise, Marley seems more interested in Quinn than in her lunch now.

"So you really had bug projects, huh?" Marley asks when they're walking away, sandwiches in hand.

"Didn't you?" Quinn spots an empty bench and sits down, Marley beside her.

"Nah." Marley pauses, distracted by the mustard oozing out of her sandwich. "My school was more on the tell, not show side. We got to do a poster on a butterfly's life cycle and that was it."

"That's kinda boring." Quinn can't take her eyes off Marley; her sandwich, to be precise. The sauce problem isn't as contained as Marley thinks it is, and there's a glob threatening to trickle down her wrist.

"Wichita Falls Elementary isn't known for being exciting," says Marley, and smiles.

Quinn nods. The trail of mustard has reached Marley's wrist. Quinn clears her throat, and says: "Hey, you got some…" She jerks her chin towards Marley's wrist.

"Oh. Shoot. Thanks." Marley bends her head and licks the sauce away.

If Quinn thought she was fascinated before, she's mesmerized now. The tip of Marley's tongue darts back out to check for any stray bits of mustard; Quinn sucks in a breath and lets it out slowly, hiding behind her own sandwich. "So," she starts. Her voice sounds strange to her ears, so she clears her throat and restarts: "So, how big is Wichita Falls exactly?"

"Bigger than Lima." Marley's attention is still on her sandwich. "I'd say maybe twice the size."

"Any particular reason for moving to the middle of nowhere?" Now she's genuinely curious; it's a long way from Texas to The Middle of Nowhere, Ohio.

Marley shrugs. "My mom just took us wherever there was work," she says. "We lost contact with my dad's side of the family after he died, and Mom's folks never liked my dad."

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

"No, it's fine." Marley neatly folds her sandwich paper into a compact square. "It's been just her and me for almost as long as I can remember."

"I haven't seen my dad since the divorce," offers Quinn. It's a rather generous peace offering, on hindsight, but Quinn deems it fair since Marley's shared about her difficult family circumstances.

Marley casts her a sideways glance which puzzles Quinn. "You don't have to talk about him if you don't want to," she says. "I know it must be hard for you."

Quinn shakes her head. "I've mostly come to terms with it." Her own sandwich is long gone now, the paper crumpled in one sweaty palm. "I was never his favorite, so he kicked me out when I got pregnant. My mom threw him out and filed for divorce so she could take me back in. It's been just us two ever since."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not." Although the flash of surprise in Marley's expression lifts her spirits a little, Quinn doesn't smile. "It taught me a lot of things. Like how repressed my life was when he was around. And that not everything is a sin." Quinn toys with the cross hanging around her neck. "I even see my daughter sometimes."

"You do?"

Quinn knows there isn't any tactful way to ask, and so she spares Marley the trouble. "Shelby Corcoran adopted her. She's also Rachel's bio-mom."

"Corcoran?"

"Vocal Adrenaline's coach," says Quinn, naming their neighbouring district's resident show choir and biggest rivals.

Marley wrinkles her nose in recognition. "Oh, her. No wonder she looks so much like Rachel." A frown creases her brow. "Isn't Rachel your best friend? Because that's kinda messed up."

Quinn laughs. Her friendship with Rachel was built on other stepping stones, but that's a story Quinn hopes she never has to share. "Believe me, there are times I don't know how that happened, but that's Rachel Berry for you." She waits, marshalling her thoughts in preparation for when Marley asks her more questions.

"I'm glad you guys are friends," notes Marley.

Quinn's confusion verbalizes itself as a surprised grunt.

"She's very… _enthusiastic_, but she really cares about you. Like how she made me fill out that compatibility quiz." Marley laughs when Quinn cringes. "Honestly, I thought she was gonna give me the shovel talk too."

Quinn buries her face in her hands. "Oh, my god."

Marley laughs again. She takes the sandwich paper from Quinn's hand and lobs it into a nearby bin. "And now I'm kinda glad it's still a long way before we head back to Lima. Plenty of time to warn Rachel to go into hiding." She links her arm with Quinn, tugging her upright. "Now c'mon. We've got a show to attend."

"We're still early," says Quinn, checking her phone. There are also a few texts from her friends which she ignores, swiping away the notifications with her thumb.

"Honestly, I'm just really excited for tonight," says Marley.

Quinn smiles; she's just as excited. Not just for the performance, but an end to the conversation. "Me too." She switches her phone to the Google map and heads off in the direction of their next destination. She meticulously planned the trip so they'll be in Ann Arbor for the free concert night.

"It's that big building we passed by earlier, right?"

"Yeah."

"No wonder you were so insistent on that particular lot," says Marley, smiling. "Now we won't have to drive again. Smart girl." She catches Quinn's hand in hers, squeezes briefly, and lets go.

"I thought we spent all day establishing that," says Quinn. She hopes her flippant tone makes it clear to herself that no, Quinn Fabray will not be undone by a single touch.

"We spent all day establishing that you're a geek, but now we know that your smarts can be used in the real world."

They're early; the venue is a quarter-full. Tonight's show is free seating, so Quinn lets Marley pick seats close to the stage.

"Do you like the performers?" Marley asks idly as she glances through the leaflet.

Quinn pauses, unsure of how much to disclose. She eventually decides to go for broke, given she's already revealed so much to Marley in the space of a single day. "They came up on my Spotify's recommended list," she says. "I like their sound."

Marley wrinkles her nose. "Recommended list? Meaning, the same sound as Leonard?"

Quinn laughs. "I don't listen to Leonard alone."

"Could've fooled me," quips Marley, mock-grumbling.

"They're pretty good." Quinn fishes for her earphones and calls up their album on her phone. "Here." She pops an earbud in one ear, offering the other to Marley, as she selects _Hey Whatever Young Forever _and presses play.

Marley listens intently. She nods along with the beat, which relaxes Quinn enough to actually listen to the music.

"They're good," she finally says after the song ends.

Quinn quickly hits pause before the next song can play. "I know, right? I love their sound, and their lyrics are pretty deep when you think about it."

"Yes, okay, I'm sold," says Marley, and laughs. "But we're gonna hear them play in about… half an hour, so we'll save this for the car, okay?"

"So no more Damien?" asks Quinn hopefully.

"Nice try." Marley reaches over to jab Quinn's arm.

More people have trickled in as they were talking. Quinn expects there will be a full house, since it's summer and it's a free concert. "Wait a bit," she tells Marley. Quinn gets up and walks over to the donation bin she spotted someone bring in. She waits until she's caught Marley's eye and maintains eye contact as she dips into her purse and drops two ten-dollar notes inside.

"You stinker!" Marley exclaims as Quinn settles back into her seat.

"Payback for the museum."

"You were my free tour guide, so I think it was only fair I spot you." Marley scrunches her face into a comical pout. "But now I'll have to think of another way to get you back for this."

Quinn makes an exasperated sound. "Marley, it's a donation. Nobody needs to get back at anybody for anything."

"Sshh. Don't be logical at me," says Marley dramatically, in her best Rachel imitation.

Quinn rolls her eyes. She's spared the trouble of replying by the musical duo walking onstage and addressing the audience.

* * *

Quinn's a little starstruck at the end of the night. Jim and Sam sound better live. They were also selling their albums, so Quinn bought two, intending one for Marley. She got them both autographed as a souvenir of this stop.

The only snag is that she's lost sight of her travel buddy. Quinn casts a critical eye in the direction of the bar; Marley doesn't have a fake ID, so it's highly doubtful Quinn will find her there.

"Hey! There you are!"

Marley pushes her way through the milling crowd, flushed and sweaty from her efforts. "Here!"

Quinn blinks in surprise. "You didn't," she says, staring at the mass of heathered blue fabric in Marley's outstretched hands.

"I did," she replies proudly.

It's a standard shirt from The Ark, with the music venue's logo splashed across the front in white lettering. But the back of it has two familiar names signed in black Sharpie.

"I didn't see you at the booth," Quinn blurts out.

"What do you mean?"

In answer, Quinn produces the autographed CD. Marley snorts in disbelief.

"Great minds think alike?"

Quinn responds with a snort of her own. "More like you copied my idea," she teases, nodding at the Michigan U shirt Marley's wearing.

Marley laughs. "Can we agree not to buy any more shirts for each other? Because I can imagine how packed my college wardrobe is gonna be if we keep this up." But she follows the words with a soft smile that makes Quinn feel like she is the only person in the room.

"No promises," she manages.

"Here, put it on. I want a souvenir photo of us in our finery."

Quinn snorts, but her body obeys, pulling the T-shirt over her head and smoothing it out. Marley snaps a few shots on her phone and camera in quick succession; Quinn manages to pose with her arm around Marley without freaking out.

It's a major milestone in her books.

Marley sends her the most flattering of the photos. On a whim, Quinn forwards it to her friends.

* * *

"I don't know about you, but I'm starved."

Quinn shakes her head. "You're always starved."

"I can't deny it. If there's one thing we always had plenty of at home, it was leftovers."

"How are you so skinny?" Quinn genuinely wants to know; her weight has been an issue that has plagued her for as long as she can remember.

Marley shrugs. "I guess I burned it all off in the kitchen. My job was usually food prep assisting and delivery. Hauling eight buffet trays of canapes into a country club without dropping any was no walk in the park."

Quinn spies a neon sign coming up and signals left. "Then we'd better get food or you might end up eating me."

There's a beat in which she reconsiders what she said. A hot blush spreads over her face and neck; she keeps her eyes trained on the road.

Marley, however, just laughs at her. "Just keep me fed, Fabray, and you'll never have to worry about that."

They've been eating a lot of diner food, but Quinn can't bring herself to care. Two weeks isn't going to cause her to balloon up, and more importantly, the sight of greasy plates and breakfast-for-dinner menus seems to spark more joy in Marley than with anyone she's ever known.

Quinn orders herself a turkey club sandwich, arching an eyebrow as Marley orders a cheeseburger and fries. She can't resist a small dig: "I know we agreed to split gas evenly but at this rate, you might need to pay a little more since there's more of you to haul."

Marley's response is to stick her tongue out at Quinn. "You're not getting any of my fries."

"I ordered my own."

"Well, you're not getting any extra."

The waitress brings their drinks. Quinn tries not to comment on the glass of milk Marley has.

"I'm not gonna have coffee at this time of night," she says defensively.

"Mmkay."

"Or a beer." Quinn arches an eyebrow. Marley raises her hands in a gesture of surrender. "Just putting it out there."

"Sure thing," says Quinn. She steals a fry from Marley's plate when their food arrives anyway, just to make a point.

* * *

She was never going to admit it, but Quinn has a Damien Rice song she plays on loop at night with her earphones in.

_You could be my favourite taste  
__To touch my tongue  
__I know someone who could serve me love  
__But it wouldn't fill me up_

Much to her annoyance, the words kept running over in her head when she's not paying attention.

_You could be my favorite place  
__I've ever been  
__I got lost in your willingness  
__To dream within the dream_

Quinn only has herself to blame, really; she's the one who decided to indulge herself with these feelings. She wasn't even thinking of a summer romance, because that's laughable; Marley isn't gay, and she doesn't think about Quinn in that way.

Not like how Quinn is starting to think about her.

_You could hold the secrets that save  
__Me from myself  
__I could love you more than love could  
__All the way from hell_

She hates how Damien seems to know what it's like. For all she dislikes the genre, she can't ignore the emotional pang the song evokes, so reminiscent of her troubled junior and senior years after she finally scraped together the courage to stop running from her feelings.

Her mother had taken it badly. Her father had yet to speak to her after she had gotten pregnant; Quinn could imagine the conniption he would have had to find out his youngest daughter was also gay. And she herself was still struggling with accepting everything that she was.

At least Quinn understood herself a little better now, and she had friends she could count on; Rachel was a good friend in spite of having broken Quinn's heart. Santana had gone through the same struggle as she had and was a listening ear Quinn could count on despite her abrasiveness. Brittany was Brittany, and always would be.

But this was something she had to experience on her own – was something she had already experienced on her own: an unrequited crush.

_You could be my poison, my cross,  
__My razor blade  
__I could love you more than life  
__If I wasn't so afraid  
__You could be my favorite faded fantasy  
__I've hung my happiness upon what it all could be_

Quinn closed the music app, put her phone on the nightstand, and closed her eyes.


	5. Grand Rapids, Michigan

**Author's Note: **This chapter went through a lot of changes and revisions and edits – all before it even reached **_Mike Ownby_**. This, apparently, is what happens when the author has lots of late-night revelations but the girls don't want to cooperate :D

On a side note re: COVID-19, Mike and I are both fine! We hope all you readers are staying safe and staying home.

* * *

Marley cheerfully goes about her morning routine, singing an impromptu medley of Jim and Sam's songs interspersed with songs Quinn recognizes from Glee. There's even – to Quinn's unending horror – some dancing involved.

Really, it would all be very adorable if Marley wasn't doing it at seven in the morning, when Quinn hasn't had her coffee yet.

She clears her throat. "You're eager."

Marley spins around. Quinn hastily averts her eyes when she spies the bra hanging haphazardly from Marley's arm. Marley furrows her brow, momentarily confused, then follows Quinn's line of sight… "Shoot, sorry," says Marley, snatching away the bra and stuffing it into her bag.

"Someone's excited," says Quinn dryly, arching an eyebrow.

"Heck yeah I'm excited! It's my turn to be the big geek!"

Quinn shakes her head. She wouldn't have described it the way Marley did, but she has to admit; she prefers Grand Rapids more than Santana's original plan to get to Chicago early and seeing how many bars their fake IDs will get them into. But her own enthusiasm is dwarfed by Marley's, and what's worse, it's contagious.

They're checking out of the motel and heading to the car when Quinn's phone rings. She winces; she'd forgotten to switch her phone to silent this morning, and Rachel's voice is now belting out _Don't Rain on My Parade _from her pocket.

Marley snickers. "Nice ringtone."

"I don't wanna hear it, Rose," says Quinn, mock-threateningly. She fishes her phone out of her pocket. "_What _is it, Rachel."

"Well, isn't that a lovely greeting for someone you haven't spoken to in days," comes Rachel's voice, sounding huffy. "Hello, Quinn. I've missed you and it's lovely to hear your voice."

"I would've been much more cheerful if you hadn't changed my ringtone for you when I wasn't looking, and if I'd had my morning coffee."

"It makes so much more sense to have my voice informing you when I'm calling, Quinn, rather than that Green Day song you chose."

Quinn smirks. She makes a mental note to change the ringtone back to _Basket Case _after the call ends.

"Quinn, your travel itinerary clearly states that you two are supposed to be on the road to Grand Rapids by seven forty-five, and it is eight now. How am I supposed to know whether you've been sufficiently caffeinated by now if you don't follow the schedule?"

Quinn feels a headache building. "... Why do you have a copy of my itinerary, again?"

"So I could plan my own schedule accordingly, in case you wished to call me and tell me about how your trip is going." Coming from any other person it would have been sarcastic, but Rachel sounds perfectly earnest and sincere.

"... So _that's _why my phone calendar's been popping up with all these **Call Rachel **notifications." She'd turned off her notifications after the fifth or sixth popup, and forgot all about them.

"I had hoped that a small reminder would have jogged your memory, in the highly unlikely event you would be having so much fun you had forgotten to call me," replies Rachel.

"Sorry."

"Apology accepted. Now, how are things? How's Marley? Is she alive, or have you murdered her and are halfway across the border to Canada?"

Quinn rolls her eyes.

"Don't roll your eyes at me."

"How did you know?"

"I know you, Quinn Fabray."

Quinn laughs. She holds out the phone to Marley, who looks at her quizzically. "Rachel thinks I've murdered you," says Quinn. "Convince her otherwise."

"Hi, Rachel!" Marley calls. "We're fine! This is not a pre-recorded message!"

"Lovely," proclaims Quinn, wrinkling her nose, and puts the phone back to her ear. "Are you convinced now?"

"Marginally," says Rachel cheerfully, as Marley cackles in the background.

"You're insane."

"I know you meant that as an insult, Quinn, but I welcome it. In fact, I'm grateful for it. I will unfortunately but inevitably receive plenty of rejections from producers on my rise to stardom, so I need all the practice I can get being belittled."

"You're welcome," says Quinn. She really doesn't know how to respond to that. "Rach, did you have anything else important to say before I hang up on you?"

"Only that you should talk to Santana more. She's a bitch and won't say it, but she misses you; and because she misses you, her torment of me has tripled."

"Goodbye, Rachel," says Quinn, and ends the call.

Marley, busy humming along to her music, taps her fingers on the steering wheel in time to the music. "That sounded fun."

Quinn laughs. "Rachel and fun don't go together. Unless you're a masochist."

"Ouch."

"She's…" Quinn searches for words to describe Rachel. "She's an acquired taste. She grows on you once you get to know her."

"A lot of best friends are like that," Marley agrees.

The song changes. Quinn recognizes the opening bass line.

"We gotta sing!" yells Marley, turning up the volume.

"Are you crazy?" Quinn winces as the electric guitar reaches dangerous levels.

"Come on! We haven't had any car karaoke since this trip started! This is the perfect first song!" Marley launches into the first verse, practically yelling the words as her head bobs along with the music.

Quinn shoots her a concerned look.

Marley shrieks the chorus and – Quinn can't believe her eyes – does the rocker hand sign, sticking her tongue out. "Woah, we're halfway there!" she sings. "Woah, livin' on a prayer!'

"You're insane!" Quinn waves a hand at the wheel. "And you're driving!"They're the only car on a relatively straight stretch of highway; Quinn knows she's grasping at straws, and she has the sneaking suspicion Marley knows it too.

"You're not singing!"

Quinn shakes her head and mouths _you're nuts _at Marley. She rolls down her window, lets the wind flow through her hair, and locks away this memory.

* * *

They pick a little roadside diner along the highway for lunch. It feels very much like all the lunches they've ever had in diners; Marley with her phone out, Quinn with an earbud stuffed in one ear. The unspoken agreement they have, Quinn feels, is that lunchtime is their time to be alone together.

The waitress pours coffee for Quinn (she takes it with a hint of milk and sugar, and Marley makes a disgusted face). The expression on Marley's face grows more pronounced when Quinn practically gulps down the coffee and signals the waitress for a refill. Quinn shakes her head. It boggles her mind, how Marley Rose, who's probably the only kid in Lima who knows the difference between a julienne and a fricassee, doesn't like coffee "because it's too bitter and gross". "It's not poison, y'know," she says.

"Shut up."

Quinn cackles. "I'm curious to find out how you'll survive college without coffee."

"Honestly, I'm not very sure myself. But if I do manage it, maybe there'll be a hit television show, and a book deal."

The waitress arches an eyebrow at Quinn as she refills Quinn's coffee mug. She doesn't say anything, however. Quinn doesn't care; she's had worse. She wraps her hands around the mug, letting the aroma of coffee fill her senses.

Instead of quietly sipping her tea like she has for the past few mornings, Marley says: "Tell me something about yourself you'd like people to know about you."

Quinn blinks, startled. "What?"

"I enjoyed all the talking we did yesterday," Marley informs her. "We should do more of it."

"By playing college orientation games?"

Marley snorts. "I mean, sure, if you wanna think of them that way. But you'll be playing them when college starts, like it or not, so you might as well get some practice in."

She wonders what planet Marley hails from, if she thinks getting-to-know-you questions at college orientation are something one needs to practice for. "Must we?"

"It'll be fun," says Marley, wheedling – which means she doesn't have any more compelling arguments. "With a little luck, we'll have something else in common that we can talk about endlessly."

"I know what we've got in common. You filled out Rachel's travel partner compatibility quiz." Quinn never thought she'd do this, but she silently thanks Rachel for her overbearing insanity. "Not to mention we went through the entire itinerary together."

Marley pouts. "Yeah, but we'll never know for sure. We could see some intriguing road sign and make a detour. Or we could like a place so much we'll stay another day. Or we'll be caught up in some event we never knew was happening until we were there."

"Yeah, following strange road signs down country roads is exactly what those kids in teenage slasher flicks always do," retorts Quinn, and grins when Marley's pout intensifies.

"You're no fun."

"Uhm, you kinda knew that from the beginning, and then decided to go along with it anyway," says Quinn. "I think yesterday conclusively proved it."

Marley just laughs at her. "You go on and think whatever you want to think. You're not getting off easy, though." She takes another sip of tea, scrunches up her face, and adds more sugar. "Go on. Tell me something about yourself that you want others to know."

From what she's seen of Marley's personality so far, Quinn knows she can kiss her peaceful lunch goodbye; Marley's persistence is something Quinn finds simultaneously endearing and exhausting. She runs her teaspoon through her coffee, stalling for time, just as Marley says: "And no stalling for time until our food gets here."

"You must think you're sooo clever."

"I know so," replies Marley beatifically. "Why don't I go first? I like reading comic books."

"That's not a secret, you and Sam trade comic books and talk about Professor X or whoever in Glee."

"And how would _you _know about Professor X, hmm?"

"I dated Sam very briefly in our sophomore year." She'd come out of that relationship knowing how to say "I love you" in Klingon, Na'vi, and Gnomish, despite her best efforts. "He talks about his comics and other nerdy stuff a lot."

"Hmm." Marley squints at her. "You and Sam. I can almost see it, even if he looks like he could be your brother."

"No, thank you. Frannie is more than enough sibling for anyone." Quinn sips her coffee. "Sam and I worked better as friends. In fact, I got along better with his siblings than with him, really."

"His siblings?"

"He has a younger brother and sister," Quinn explains, "so most of our dates were babysitting them while his parents were out working."

"You babysit?"

Quinn shrugs. "It was that or work at our local Lima Bean, and my dad hated the idea of his friends seeing me brew coffee. He had this whole image thing going on, that we were too rich to be working for minimum wage, whatever."

"Right," says Marley, wrinkling her nose. She had looked on the verge of exploding when Quinn mentioned minimum wage.

"He only gave me money for stuff that he approved of, like new dresses for church, or piano classes, or some book our pastor recommended. I had to get a job if I wanted money for normal teen stuff," says Quinn dryly, making Marley laugh. "There're not many other jobs for teenagers in Lima, so… babysitting it was."

Marley nods. She has that look on her face, the one Quinn's starting to recognize as what Marley wears whenever Quinn talks about her dad.

"I don't think I need to mention that I'm the junior lunchlady," says Marley lightly. Quinn snorts.

"You mentioned it anyway."

"Oops." Marley looks unbothered. "Hey, I heard there might be an opening for temp junior lunchladies this summer," she says, bumping Quinn's elbow. "You interested?"

"Yeah, why not?" says Quinn, and is rewarded with a smile.

* * *

Marley practically skips towards the doors of the Grand Rapids Art Museum with such gusto that it makes Quinn laugh.

"You're really filling all the art kid stereotypes, aren't you?" Quinn teases. "Music, and now art."

"Please don't start talking to me about dimensions and saturation," Marley says. "I'm not the intellectual my tourist choices are making me out to be. I just like art 'cause it's pretty. And museums tend to have free entry."

She's reminded that Marley is on a strict budget and she's missing out on two weeks of catering business income to be on this trip. But Quinn doesn't react, doesn't let any kind of look get on her face. It's not a subject for discussion – at least not while they're being carefree teenagers on summer vacation.

At any rate, they seem to have a common, unspoken understanding that Quinn and her relationship with her father is off-limits, as is Marley's socio-economic status.

"If you ask me," says Quinn carefully, "I don't think that there needs to be a good reason for someone to like art museums."

Marley laughs at her. "Good idea," she says.

Much to Quinn's mild consternation, Marley doesn't take a map. She doesn't follow the suggested route (which is given in the map Quinn takes), but wanders haphazardly from gallery to gallery. She spends ten minutes in front of a statue of a hunched-over woman (Quinn thinks; she isn't absolutely certain) and bypasses everything else around it. She meticulously studies everything on display in one gallery (even the bemused guard) and skips the next gallery entirely.

It drives Quinn insane.

"Is there any particular reason for the – ah – _grazing_ we're doing?" asks Quinn.

Marley pauses, halfway through her contemplation of a painting of a rural farm scene. "Grazing?" she replies, and giggles. "I like that word. I'm using it from now on."

"Sure."

Marley giggles again. "I figured you were the kind of person who would freak out if we didn't methodically view museums, but I didn't know you got _this _antsy."

"Please tell me you aren't doing this on purpose."

"Definitely not." Marley turns back to the painting. "I'm not doing anything on purpose. I like spending more time looking at works that I think are nice."

"So a single glance can tell you it's not worth looking at?" Quinn didn't mean to sound sarcastic, but the words come out pointed, even to her own ears.

Marley nods. "Yeah. It's a gut feeling for me. I don't think art is good or bad; there's just art I like and art I don't like."

Quinn can understand this. Her own approach is fairly egalitarian and scientific; she looks at all artworks before deciding whether she likes them or not, and her preferences are usually influenced by interesting backstories or some other trivia that give context. To her, the artist's message, their life circumstances that shaped the piece of art… those are all things that are inseparable from the artwork. She says so, and gets an interested look from Marley.

"That's a pretty intellectual approach," she says. "Mine is so much more shallow in comparison."

Quinn's eyes widen. "I really wasn't trying to compare."

"I know." Marley turns back to the landscape they're standing in front of. "That's another thing I really love about art too, that there's so many ways to interpret it, and even then sometimes it surprises you. Like this painting," she says, "it looks so nice and green, but it could be about world poverty or something. Or maybe it's actually the artist's idea of a hellscape. Or it could be his memory of a twisted childhood which he spent herding goats in Switzerland."

"... You're insane," says Quinn, trying not to laugh.

Marley shrugs. "Sometimes, it's fun judging a book by its cover," she quips, and wanders off to the next painting.

Quinn follows, resisting the urge to glance back at the painting.

* * *

When they arrive at the museum's exit, Marley makes a beeline for the museum's gift shop and the racks of postcards on display.

Quinn, trailing behind, doesn't take too long before she loses interest in the stacks of print-sized art and wanders off to browse through the shop's collection of glossy art books.

"Quinn, help," comes the plaintive cry not long after.

Quinn turns around, half-amused, half-mortified. "That is a problem you brought on yourself," she says, looking at the thick stack of postcards Marley has in her hands, and the hopeless expression the other girl is wearing.

"How can any person be expected to pick ten out of all these?" asks Marley with some exasperation. She glares down at the postcards in her hands, shuffling through the stack. Occasionally she returns one to the display.

Quinn takes pity on her when Marley's down to about thirty. She does her best to ignore the grinning sales assistant, instructing Marley to divide them into two piles; one for 'definite yeses' and the other for 'maybes'.

She is not amused when Marley sheepishly stacks them all in the yes pile.

"You wanted help."

"You can see that I really need it."

Quinn glares at her. She shuffles through the stack herself – deaf to Marley's sounds of alarm – and reorganizes the cards into several categories.

Marley squints. "How did you organize them?"

"These are landscapes," says Quinn, tapping each pile as she names them. "Portraits. Abstract. Cityscapes. Nature. Pick your top three from each. Only."

"You're a monster," grumbles Marley.

"Hey, you asked for my help, and I gave it," shrugs Quinn. "I could always leave you here trying to narrow down your options from a thousand cards, and pick you up on my way back to Lima."

Marley sticks out her tongue at her, but starts picking through the piles. Quinn is quick to reshelve the rejects, much to Marley's disapproval.

"I bet you did this with the Cheerios," she mutters. "Get them to eliminate each other like it's the Hunger Games."

"That's more Sue's speed," replies Quinn. "I preferred to leave the eliminating to Santana. She takes the process very literally, which is always fun to watch." Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Marley shoot her a look, and she smirks as she pretends not to notice.

It's a painstaking process, and Quinn is more than a little disturbed by all the sounds of distress Marley makes, but they eventually leave the store. Marley carries the brown paper bag containing her purchases in both hands. "You know what? That was actually kind of fun," she chirps as they get into the car.

"Yeah, no. Let's not do that again."

* * *

When Marley hops onto her bed with her phone and her iPod, Quinn thinks she'll get a peaceful evening with her book.

She's sadly mistaken when about an hour later, Marley sidles over to her bed.

"Let's go out," she says.

"Out? Where?" Quinn checks the time on her phone. "It's nearly midnight."

"So? It's a motel. We don't have a curfew."

Quinn squints at her. "Are you hungry?"

"Maybe a little," Marley admits. She flops down on the bed, legs hanging off the edge. "C'mon. We're on summer vacation. This is supposed to be the epic pre-college road trip of a lifetime. Live a little."

Quinn sighs deeply. She won't actually look at Marley (because she knows the other girl will be pouting ridiculously at her, and that will skew her judgement). "Fine," she says, tucking her bookmark into her book and sliding off the bed. She can't decide what the worst part is: that she was convinced so easily by Marley's paper-thin reasoning, or that she wasn't even considering the reasoning at all.

* * *

Against her better judgement, she lets Marley drive.

The first sign that she should be concerned is how Marley refuses to let her open Google Maps, and just takes off down the road, following (or deliberately not following) roadsigns.

"Please reassure me that you have some idea of where we're headed," says Quinn as Marley executes a three-point turn.

"Sorry, no can do."

"It wasn't _too_ much to ask," Quinn mutters reproachfully.

"As in, I couldn't tell you where we're headed even if I wanted to, because I have no idea myself."

"Oh, my god."

"Hey, this is an adventure! We're having an _adventure_! Isn't it cool to have a neatly-planned itinerary and not follow it for once?"

Quinn wants to beg to differ, but a sharp left turn down a poorly-lit road forces the words back into her mouth. "You're nuts."

Her only reply is a cackle. Quinn hangs on grimly to her seatbelt.

Eventually they roll to a halt. "Are we dead? Is this heaven? Are you there, God? It's me, Quinn Fabray," says Quinn.

"Ha ha. Trust you to be dramatic as hell _and _sneak in a Judy Blume reference." Marley gets out of the car.

Quinn follows suit, glad for the chance to feel solid ground under her feet. "Where are we?"

"No clue."

She looks around. There are a few streetlights in the distance, but there's nothing to indicate their geographical location. They're parked not far from a river, in a grassy clearing.

"That's the Grand River," says Marley, pointing, "and the rest, I have no idea."

"Actually, at this point, if we found ourselves away from the Grand River I'd be worried."

"You need to have a little more faith," says Marley. She hauls blankets from the backseat of Quinn's car.

"When did you pack those?"

"When you were engrossed in your book earlier. Here, hold on to these while I get the groundsheet down, then help me spread the blankets out."

Together, they make a comfortable nest of blankets big enough for them to lie down. Marley kicks off her sneakers and flops down. Quinn follows suit, albeit more gracefully; she slips off her ballet flats and tucks her legs underneath her, arching an eyebrow as she watches Marley sprawl over the blankets.

Marley grins up at her, unabashed. "I'm comfy," she says, "that's important."

Quinn shakes her head. "Whatever floats your boat."

"Quinn, stop being all judge-y and come lie down."

Quinn complies. She rolls onto her back (careful not to lie down on Marley) and finds herself looking up into a star-filled sky. "Whoa."

"Yeah, that was what I was gonna say," comes Marley's voice from beside Quinn's left ear. It's much closer than she'd expected (it was hard, aiming in the gloom) and she hopes her blush goes unnoticed in the darkness. "We're just barely out of the town and we got this view."

"You can see the stars in Lima, too."

"I know. I go stargazing a lot from my roof." There's rustling beside her as Marley shifts. "There's also a lookout spot outside of town that's pretty isolated. Jake took me there once."

Quinn wrinkles her nose. "Jake _Puckerman_? As in, Puck's brother? You dated _him_?"

"He's not _that _bad. He's less douchey than Puck, and he can be really sweet. It goes without saying that he's hot," Marley says. "We rarely had time for dates 'cause I was busy helping my mom. We went out a few times until he decided that Kitty's schedule was more compatible with his."

"Oh." She'd seen Jake around town a few times, before Puck told her about the family connection. She agrees with Marley that he's hot, but she's not really into boys these days, so…

Then she holds her breath when a hand grabs her upper arm. There's a pause before Marley kicks at Quinn's leg. "You're not allowed to judge. You didn't date Puck."

Quinn holds her breath and expects Marley to say something about her and Puck, but there is nothing. She blinks, surprised and confused, before it dawns on her that Marley probably doesn't know.

Naturally, all of this happens in her head.

Marley nudges her. "You're quiet. Aren't you gonna bitch back at me?"

"Not really," says Quinn absently. "About what?"

"For kicking you. For grabbing your hand – which I needed to do anyway, because it's dark and I didn't wanna kick your boob or something. I'm rambling. I don't know."

She chuckles and pillows her head with her hands. "Hey, Marley?"

"Yeah?"

"Remember when we were in Ann Arbor and I was telling you about when I got pregnant?"

"Yeah?" Marley says again, sounding anxious now.

Quinn huffs out a breath. "Puck was the father."

A beat.

"Whoa, hol' up there," exclaims Marley, sitting bolt-upright. Quinn squints as her view of the night sky is suddenly obstructed by Marley staring down at her. "Puck, as in Noah _Puckerman_ got _you_ – whoa, okay."

"What, no one ever told you?"

"No!" Marley flops back down, grunting as her back impacts with the ground with a solid sound that Quinn feels rather than hears. "I mean, it's not the kinda thing you go 'round asking people."

Quinn smiles faintly. Time has mostly dulled her emotions. "There was a party at his house. I was feeling fat, and he'd gotten me drunk on wine coolers. I don't even remember any of it." She lays out the bare minimum, unwilling to go into detail.

"I'm sorry that happened to you. And I'm sorry I brought up Puck – shoot, _that's _what made you bring it up. Sorry."

"It's okay. I just thought you should know, and better you hear it from me than anyone else." Quinn blinks up at the sky as another internal wall crumbles. It releases a mix of emotions that she doesn't know how to process, let alone deal with, but Marley isn't talking, so neither does Quinn.

They stare up at the sky in silence. It's clear enough Quinn is certain she can make out constellations if she actually knew what they looked like, apart from the ones everyone knew like Orion and the Big Dipper. But right now it's all a jumble of stars above, and Quinn makes up new ones in her head. There's her car, up to the right. Sue's bullhorn. A baby stroller.

"Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something? You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"Go ahead and ask."

"Did your dad really kick you out?"

Quinn snorts. "Of course he did. You've heard a few stories about him already, he's not the kind of guy who tolerates mistakes from his perfect daughters. Especially not me. I'm not the golden child like Frannie is; just… a disappointment."

A warm hand grips her wrist. Quinn stiffens.

"You're not a disappointment," Marley says firmly.

There's a part of Quinn that raises its hackles when Marley says that. It wants to snap at Marley, wants to tear her apart for daring to assume what she is and isn't. But Quinn muzzles it, locks it away. She's better than that now. "I don't see how that's possible, but I appreciate the sentiment," she says.

"I'm serious. You're not. You're Ivy League, Quinn. You're getting out of Lima. I think the real disappointment is your dad, because he wasn't there for you when you needed him."

It's nothing Quinn hasn't heard from her friends before. But it means so much more to her, and she blames her not-so-little crush for it. "Thanks," she manages, squeezing Marley's hand back.

Marley hums. "This is kinda heavy for a summer vacation. Do you still wanna talk about this? We can talk about something else. Let's talk about something else. Like constellations. Do you know any? I know Orion and the Big Dipper."

Quinn is startled into a laugh. "Way to change the subject, Rose. Has anyone ever told you you're a natural?"

"You're the first but you won't be the last," Marley replies jauntily. "But seriously. I bet you know a whole bunch of constellations."

"What makes you think so?"

"You're a classics fan. It goes with the territory."

Quinn snorts and rolls over to look at Marley, propping her head on her elbow. "There are too many erroneous stereotypes in that sentence for me to address."

"What, you're telling me that you don't know any constellations?" Marley laughs, and turns her head in Quinn's direction.

It's a bit hard for Quinn to concentrate on talking after she realizes that now Marley's face is so close to hers, that if she tips just a few inches forward, she could be kissing Marley. "I, uhm," Quinn mutters.

Too close, too long. Quinn rolls away to safety. "... I know Orion. And the Big Dipper."

"... What a coincidence, so do I." Quinn's hormonal, overactive imagination may be playing tricks on her, but she's certain Marley sounds flustered and breathless all of a sudden. "That's them, up there."

"You didn't point anywhere, you're just waving your hand in big circles at the sky." Quinn, earlier glad for the darkness hiding her blush, now curses it for not letting her see if Marley is blushing.

"They're up there somewhere," insists Marley. "Since you know them too, I'm sure you don't need me to point them out."

"I'm calling fraud."

"Pot, meet kettle."

Quinn laughs. She removes her hands from her face once she's certain the heat has receded from her cheeks, and her heart's no longer pounding in her ears.

"Penny for your thoughts."

"Is that all they're worth?"

"Inflation sucks," says Marley very seriously. "But yeah, what's on your mind?"

She can't very well say she's imagining what it would be like if she'd kissed Marley two minutes ago, so Quinn says: "I think I saw a 24-hour drive-through on our way out here."

"Greasy fast food after midnight? What would Sue Sylvester say if she could see you now?"

"That you're a terrible influence but also I don't give a shit, because she's not the boss of me anymore." Quinn leaps to her feet with a grace born of years of gymnastics. "C'mon, I'll drive."

"You know how to get back?"

"Okay, I'll let you drive."

"Generous of you. Since you're in the giving mood, help me up first."

Quinn hesitates. It's a second too long, because Marley says: "You got up so easily. Spare a thought for the rest of us who aren't athletically inclined."

There are so many ways this could turn into a disaster. Front and center is Quinn being a gay mess, imagining kissing Marley because they were close enough. But she holds out her hand and braces herself, yanking Marley up; to her surprise, the other girl is lighter than she expected and Marley stumbles forward into Quinn.

"Sorry, I wasn't expecting you to be so light," Quinn blurts, and cringes. "I, uh, normally do that for Santana and Britt, and they're heavier."

Marley doesn't say anything. It makes Quinn nervous. "... Please never mention this to them and I'll be eternally grateful."

It makes Marley laugh, but it sounds strained, breathless. "My lips are sealed."

At the mention of lips, Quinn's eyes automatically focus on them. She tries valiantly to clear her mind of all thoughts – and realizes she's still holding on to Marley's hand. "Sorry," she says, letting go, stepping out of Marley's personal space. "I promise I'm not normally this awkward."

"I believe you." Marley bends down to gather up the blankets, back to Quinn, hiding her face from view.

She wishes she could melt into the ground. "Okay. Great. Do you need any help with that?"

"No, I can manage."

"Okay." Quinn gets into the passenger seat to be alone with her thoughts, which are currently buzzing around her head like a swarm of angry hornets. She doesn't know what to do; for goodness' sake, when she was crushing on Rachel, the first thing she managed to do was to corner her in a bathroom and kiss her. That's not an option here, not with a week or so left of forced proximity and nowhere to run.

Quinn fights the urge to bang her head on the dashboard.

The driver's door clicks open, and Marley slides in. "The trunk's a mess, but we can sort it out tomorrow morning," she says.

"Okay."

"It's really late but Chicago's like, 3 hours' drive away, so we don't need to rush." Marley's not looking at her, which should be a good thing, except it's really not. "What time did they say we have to check out again?"

"11, I think," says Quinn, fumbling with her phone, "let me check."

"Cool. So, I'm thinking we could head straight back now and get some sleep so we can be on schedule."

"Forget the schedule," says Quinn with a vehemence that surprises them both. "I mean… it's our epic summer vacation, right? We don't have to stick to a neatly-planned itinerary if we don't want to."

Marley looks at her. "Follow strange signs down country roads?"

"Yeah, maybe not that."

Marley smiles at her. Quinn smiles back.

"What did you have in mind then, Miss Rebel?" Marley asks, resting both arms on the steering wheel.

"I say we find that diner on the way back," says Quinn, feeling bolder with every word that comes out of her mouth. "We'll just check out later than planned. I don't think you want to drive when sleep-deprived."

"Missing a night won't kill me, but you're right." She frowns suddenly. "We'll have to pay, though."

"It's fine. I know someone who can line up a junior lunchlady gig for the summer," says Quinn, and gets a scoff and a smile in response.

The conversation was a good distraction for everything that was on Quinn's mind. As Marley starts up the car, Quinn quickly plugs in her phone so there doesn't need to be any awkward silences. Which there really shouldn't be at all, after they've spent the last couple of days getting along so well. Quinn chews on her lip as the sounds of Florence The Machine fill in the space.

She's afraid she's ruined it. Everything was going so well, she had her inconvenient feelings under control, until she had to make it awkward not once but twice. Quinn purses her lips and blows out slowly.

"Quinn?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think you could get directions for the motel, please?"

"What about the diner?"

Marley smiles, a shade of what Quinn is used to. "I'm not very hungry, to be honest."

Her stomach plummets. "Oh. Okay, then."

Quinn continues to be nervous throughout the short ride back to the motel, for some reason. After that uncharacteristic turning down of food, Marley is back to her usual cheerful self – which only exacerbates Quinn's nervousness.

She knows things were awkward back there. She knows Marley noticed; there'd be no other reason for Marley to act weird around her.

* * *

With everything that's on her mind, Quinn is surprised that she manages to doze off for a few hours. Or that's what she thinks happens, because the last thing she remembers is running through everything that's happened for the eight hundredth time.

She dresses hurriedly yet quietly. Marley isn't awake yet, judging by the unmoving heap of sheets in the other bed, and Quinn doesn't want to disturb her.

Quinn doesn't know how to make things right – or, at least, Quinn would settle for somewhat normal. But… she owes it to Marley – and herself – to try.

* * *

By the time Quinn comes back, Marley is awake and packed. "There you are, Quinn," she says, climbing off the bed, "where'd you go?"

Quinn holds up a bag. "The motel doesn't do those breakfast buffets you like, so I got something to tide us over to the nearest greasy spoon."

She hands the bag to Marley, who opens it. The sugary aroma of donuts wafts out.

"Holy heck," says Marley, sounding reverent. "Donuts. They smell amazing." She glances up at Quinn, eyes shining, and Quinn hates that she melts instantly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Quinn wants to run. Every nerve is screaming at her to disengage, bail out, swim for her life. But she ignores it all. "I know last night was a little weird," she begins, glossing over everything she'd actually describe it as, "but I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

Marley grins suddenly, then slings an arm around Quinn's neck. "I'm not, I promise. But this is a pretty high bar you're setting." She lets go of Quinn to fish out a donut.

* * *

Quinn isn't sure if things are truly back to normal. There are some things she can't take back – the main thing being her feelings – but something has shifted, and she lacks the ability to say what.

Perhaps she's reading too much into things. God knows she'd done plenty of that in the dark days of her crush on Rachel. She'd been too closeted to look for help online, and that had meant plenty of sleepless hours puzzling through everything she was feeling and how it went against everything she'd been raised to believe.

At least she has plenty to keep her busy now. Chicago is the biggest and busiest city she's been in since New Directions were in New York for Nationals. Chicago is packed full of museums and music and amusement parks and food and Ivy League colleges for the both of them.

It's going to be an incredibly hectic next couple of days.

While planning their itinerary, the most difficult thing had been whittling down everything they wanted to see and do in Chicago into three days. Marley had been more devastated than Quinn because Quinn has been planning the trip for far longer, and has had more time to come to terms with her disappointment.

But right now, Marley is back in her little kid mode, buzzing in excitement as they visit their first Chicago attraction…

"She's _beautiful_," says Marley, starry-eyed.

Quinn tries not to laugh. "Mm," she replies. "She does look pretty good for being, like, 60 million years old."

Marley slugs her in the arm, _hard_. It makes Quinn lose her composure and start laughing, which draws curious looks from the kids around them. "You're making a scene. I can't bring you anywhere, honestly."

"Sorry," says Quinn, who's not sorry at all.

Marley has a smile of her own (which she quickly hides when Quinn accidentally makes eye contact with her, covering it with a mock-stern facade). "Apologize to Sue, not me," she insists, pointing at the skeleton.

"Sorry I called you old, Sue."

She's glad Santana can't see her now; apologizing to a T. Rex skeleton because Marley Rose told her to. Santana would've had a field day.

Marley beams at her, and catches her hand as they leave so they won't get separated in the throngs of elementary school kids. Quinn can only imagine how she looks right now, and it's probably so much worse than how she feels. She's walking an increasingly thinner tightrope, but Quinn can't bring herself to care right now.

"Hey, who do you think is older? Sue the T. Rex, or Sue Sylvester?"

Quinn cackles. "Sue Sylvester. Duh. By at least 10 million years."


	6. Chicago, Illinois (Day 1)

**Author's Notes: **Special thanks go to _**Mike Ownby **_who did a lot of nitpicking and logic-fixing this round to make it fit to post. It has honestly gotten to the point where I refuse to look at a draft chapter for a moment longer, send it off, and get it back with helpful commentary that makes me want to work on it again.

* * *

The more Quinn thinks about it, the more she realizes that things _will _have to change. And since Marley doesn't have any idea about what's going on in Quinn's head, it's all up to her.

The most important thing, of course, is controlling how her (now dangerous) crush affects her interactions with Marley. Quinn finds detachment the appropriate way to go when dealing with something as irrational and inconvenient as her feelings.

Everything would be so much easier if Marley could stop being Marley, _thankyouverymuch_.

But that was impossible. Marley couldn't be less Marley, just like how Quinn couldn't be any less of a gay mess around her – and Quinn had tried.

There was always freezing her out, like Quinn had done with Rachel. But Quinn quickly dismissed that thought. She was making a fresh start in a new city in the fall, and she would like to have fond memories of this summer – and Marley – to carry with her.

So all she can do is smile, pretend everything is fine, and that she has never felt anything deeper for Marley than friendship.

The sun is out when they leave the Field Museum (and Sue). To make things easier for their itineraries (and nerves), they've split the planning for their three days in Chicago. Marley took charge of day one, Quinn the second, and they've agreed that the third day will be spent at Navy Pier and its environs.

Much to Quinn's amusement, Marley's day seems suited to a child rather than an impending college freshman. She gets a smack to the arm when she says so.

"I don't insult your choices, Fabray," huffs Marley. "Just for that, you're buying me another donut later."

"I've created a monster."

Marley ignores her. "Donuts are way more fun when you don't have to knead the dough and make the cinnamon glaze from scratch. _And _fry them without the hot oil jumping everywhere."

Quinn blinks. "You know how to make donuts from scratch?"

"Sure! My mom taught me 'cause we had a request for them once." Marley smiles at her. She seems to have completely forgotten that she was mad at Quinn. "I could teach you, if you want."

Instantly, Quinn's traitorous mind goes to thoughts of Marley standing behind her in the kitchen. She has her hands over Quinn's as she shows her how to roll out the dough, her body pressed into every inch of Quinn's…

Quinn croaks out a "sounds nice, thanks". She points out a balloon seller close by, and quickly buries her face in her hands when Marley's attention is diverted.

Well, so much for detachment.

* * *

Apart from her body's insistence on betraying her, it's a lovely summer's day to be out. Even though there is no shortage of grade school field trips, families on vacation, and people just out to enjoy the sunshine, it's easy for Quinn to ignore them all and focus on Marley.

It doesn't take much. Marley is a constant hive of activity, pointing out sights for Quinn, making comments on everything and anything, and asking random little questions that seem easy enough, but Quinn has to mull over.

Like: "What's your favorite ice cream flavor? Wrong answers only."

Quinn is startled into a laugh. "What?"

"Have you played this game before? You're only allowed to give the wrong answer to the question."

"No, because I'm not five," replies Quinn dryly. "You realize that since there's only one correct answer, I could tell you my favorite ice cream flavor is burnt car tire and you'd have to accept it?"

Marley sticks out her tongue at Quinn. "I was hoping you'd say something like raspberry ripple, but whatever makes you happy, I suppose."

"Raspberry ripple? That sounds pretty nice. You don't like it?"

"I've never tried it," admits Marley. "I saw it on an ice cream parlor's summer special menu back in Wichita Falls."

"Okay, then it's my turn to ask you a question. Would you rather have a donut or an ice cream right now?"

Marley gives a little shriek of outrage. "Quinn, that's not fair! First you got me craving a donut, and now all I can think of is ice cream in this heat."

Quinn shrugs, unrepentant. "You could have just said both, but you didn't. You did that to yourself. I have no sympathy for you."

They pass a large boulder and Marley stops dead in her tracks. "Look! It's the Olmec head!"

"The what?"

Marley grabs Quinn's hand and drags her around the boulder. It takes Quinn a while to stop focusing on Marley's hand (she gets better with practice) and on the boulder – which isn't a boulder, after all. From the front, it's a large stone sculpture of a man's head wearing what appears to be a flat helmet.

"The Olmec people? Like the Mayans? Though I think they were more famous for football and not human sacrifices," says Marley, quickly consulting Wikipedia.

"Lovely." Quinn admires the weathered stone sculpture. She looks around for the plaque and spies it on the ground, a short distance in front of the sculpture.

"This head is at least 2,000 years old," announces Marley. "It was a gift from the governor of Veracruz."

"I know."

"You do?"

Quinn kicks the plaque lightly with her foot. "Says here on this ancient Wikipedia post."

"Ha, ha. You think you're so funny." Marley waves at Quinn. "Come over here, we're taking a selfie with Mr Olmec."

Quinn smiles. She goes to stand on the other side of the stone head, smiling obediently at the camera. The camera flashes, and Quinn starts to walk away – only to be pulled back by the ball of her jacket. "Now some goofy shots," Marley commands.

"What?"

"Serious face now," orders Marley, and presses her lips together.

Quinn doesn't comply immediately. "_Quinn_," Marley whines.

"This is ridiculous," mutters Quinn, but makes a stern face anyway. She glares at the camera, channeling her best Head Cheerio.

"Terrifying," says Marley, examining the photo. "It makes me wanna wet my pants. I love it."

Quinn laughs. "Most of my Cheerios would have thought you were insane."

"I'd actually be insane if I tried out. I don't have the discipline and work ethic like you guys, not even mentioning I don't have a single athletic bone in my body." Marley checks her phone. "C'mon, we won't have time for both the planetarium and aquarium if we don't hurry."

Quinn snorts ungracefully. "Please. You wake up at the crack of dawn to help your mom make canapes. Cheerios is all of the discipline and hard work and none of the food." There is a part of her brain now that pictures Marley in the Cheerios uniform. Quinn suffers in silence.

"I was trying to be nice," Marley insists. She's pressing her lips together in a poorly-disguised attempt not to laugh, so Quinn isn't fooled.

Quinn quickens her step. "Anyway, I have no problem hurrying. Athlete here, remember. I was just going slow for your benefit."

Marley sputters in outrage. They take turns speeding up until it breaks out into a hilarious sprint up the front steps of Shedd Aquarium. "I… win," Marley gasps, putting her hands on her knees.

She got ahead of Quinn by a hair because Quinn let her, but Quinn doesn't say that. "Only because you cheated," replies Quinn instead. She's not even out of breath, and she knows Marley knows it.

"I need every advantage I can get to be able to compete against you."

Still bickering, Quinn and Marley join the queue for tickets. As she reaches for her purse, Quinn remembers something. "Hey, let me buy the tickets and you can pay me back later," she says.

"Why?"

"I've got a discount."

Marley blinks, surprised. "I didn't know they had discounted tickets."

"Leave it to me," instructs Quinn.

When it's their turn, Quinn says: "Two, please, for Chicago residents." She takes two IDs out of her purse and hands it to the ticketing agent with a winning smile.

Marley's eyes bug out of her head, but Quinn pretends not to notice.

The agent glances at the IDs, nods, and punches in the discount. "Have a nice day, girls," she says, handing them their tickets with the IDs and the receipt.

Once they're out of sight of the ticket office, Marley makes a grab for Quinn's purse. "How did you – ?" she starts.

Quinn looks around before handing her one of the IDs. It belongs to Melissa LeGrant, twenty-five, who lives in Chicago, Illinois. Melissa also has Marley's face.

"How did you –?"

Quinn grimaces. "Santana made them for me before we left. She made a whole batch 'cause she was planning on using them to sneak into bars. She made you one as a 'Sorry I Bailed Out At The Last Minute, Bitch' gift, in her words." She squints at the picture. "I think she got your picture from the school yearbook."

Marley squints too, but it is directed at her. "I'm assuming you've got an entire stack of cards in your purse?"

Quinn laughs. "God, no. This is the same one I used to buy that beer the other day," she says, holding up the other ID. It belongs to a girl named Emily Stark who looks shockingly identical to Quinn. "Unlike Santana, I'm not planning larceny on a grand scale to need a whole array of IDs."

"What's next, fake passports?"

"God, I hope not. You never know with Santana, though." Quinn glances at Marley. "You're taking this rather well."

"I've had time to get used to your criminal activities." Marley looks at the ticket in her hand. "Plus, I'd be lying if I didn't think that $20 is a lot better than $40."

"Yeah." Quinn gives her a small smile. "If it's any consolation, I intend to pay full price for everything once I have an income."

"It really isn't." But Marley smiles back, and leads the way into the aquarium.

* * *

The aquarium is (predictably) crowded with kids. They outnumber the harrassed adult chaperones and teachers, and there are plenty of interesting things jostling for the kids' attention. The result is a giant game of pinball where Quinn and Marley (and other adult guests) are the bumpers.

Quinn manages to tug Marley out of the way of an excited boy. She glares at him until he runs back to the safety of his teacher.

"Thanks," says Marley.

"No problem." Quinn releases Marley immediately. She sticks close by, however, in case of further dangers.

Most of the children are clustered around a large circular tank, their faces pressed to the glass. Quinn waits for a space to vacate, and pulls on Marley's elbow. They squeeze as close to the glass as they can, giggling.

The aquarium is full of colorful inhabitants that are way more interesting than Quinn's county fair goldfish. She starts to understand the appeal of aquariums and exotic fish as she watches the sleek shapes dart through the water.

"Quinn, look!" Marley squeals, grabbing Quinn's arm. "Over there, behind the pink coral reef."

Quinn squints where Marley is pointing. She holds her breath as a sea turtle glides serenely past, unconcerned by the other fish. Underneath the turtle, a manta ray emerges from the sand and takes to the open water.

It's magical. Quinn is mesmerized.

As mesmerizing as the tank is, they have a schedule, and many more mesmerizing tanks to see. Quinn darts a casual glance at Marley, who's still holding on to her arm, eyes wide as she watches the fish swim in shimmering circles.

Quinn doesn't have the heart to tear her away. She gently clears her throat and says: "The aquarium has other fish too, y'know."

Marley blinks at her. "I know, meanie." She moves away from the tank, but doesn't let go of Quinn. "Let's go."

Quinn walks close to Marley. She doesn't want Marley to let go. Unfortunately, they're forced to split when a school group walks towards them.

Quinn plays it cool, walking back to Marley as soon as she's able. "I got you a map," she says, handing the brochure to Marley.

"Lies," replies Marley, "we both know the map's for your sanity so you know what I'm skipping."

"Indulge me."

* * *

Quinn thinks they may escape the humiliation that was the Grand Rapids Art Museum's gift shop this time. But Marley lets out a gasp when they pass the aquarium's shop and the racks of stuffed toys inside, and Quinn knows her fate is sealed.

"Go on," says Quinn, "but don't expect me to come save you when you can't choose one."

"I think I can handle myself," says Marley loftily. She makes a beeline towards the basket of stuffed sharks.

Quinn watches her go with equal parts fondness and exasperation. Marley is impossible to pigeonhole; one moment, her childish enthusiasm rivals Rachel's, the next, she is anything but childish. Complex simplicity. Quinn mentally berates herself for how ridiculous her train of thought has run.

She wanders through the gift shop, waiting for the inevitable call.

"Quinn." Marley's voice is hesitant.

"No."

"_Helppp_." It's degenerated into blatant whining, now, and Quinn shouldn't be finding it cute.

"What did I say?" asks Quinn. She puts down the book she was browsing.

Marley sighs. "You were right and I was wrong. Please save me, or we'll never make it to the planetarium today."

Quinn gives. Of course she does. She walks over to Marley and surveys the motley crew Marley has lined up in front of her. "The sea otter," she says.

"You're sure?"

"Positive." Personally, Quinn prefers the plush turtle, as she had been rather taken by Nickel the sea turtle and her story. She also thought the turtle looked pretty cute, with its sewn-on smile, button eyes, and huggable body. But Marley had squealed endlessly over how cute the sea otters were, and the plush she had in front of her was adorable with big black eyes and soft fur.

"Second choice?"

"The turtle."

Marley beams at her, then puts away all the sea animal plushes save for the turtle and sea otter. She takes them to the cashier and pays for both.

"Two, huh?"

"Yep." Marley hands the turtle to Quinn.

"What?"

"It's a souvenir, Quinn. Nickel will brighten up your dorm and remind you of the stack of fake IDs that got you into the Shedd Aquarium for half-price."

Quinn laughs. "If you keep buying unnecessary stuff for me, you'll go broke before the trip is over."

"Unnecessary? How rude. Nickel is a pillow and friend and cushion." In softer tones, Marley continues: "No, seriously, just accept it."

* * *

Quinn pulls out her fake IDs again for the Chicago resident discount at the Adler Planetarium; Marley shoots her a look that's part exasperation, part gratitude. They only get two dollars off, but Marley doesn't seem to care, so neither does Quinn.

* * *

As they enter the hall for the show, Quinn can't resist saying: "You know, we could've saved a ton of money by driving somewhere isolated for stargazing."

"You're just being mean because we didn't get as big a discount for here as we did at Shedd."

Quinn laughs. "I'm gonna be a struggling college student for the next four years of my life. You never know, that extra $20 could be the difference between that box of instant ramen and starvation."

"You're so dramatic. You should major in drama."

"Funny."

"I'm partly serious, though; I think you could be really good at it. Not a regular actress, but a… _thespian_," Marley says triumphantly as she hits on the word she wants. "Then you'd move into teaching after a long and illustrious career."

"Thanks for the free career guidance."

"You can thank me when it actually comes true."

Quinn shakes her head. Truthfully, that's a career path she's already seen for herself, but she thinks she might skip the stage altogether. She loves performing, but she's too fond of her books.

"Actually, wait," Marley is saying, "I don't think I've asked you what you were gonna major in at Yale."

"Drama," says Quinn, deadpan. "According to my guidance counselor."

"Ha ha."

"I was thinking of English," relents Quinn, taking pity on Marley. "Or comparative literature."

"Comparative literature?" Marley furrows her brow. "Wait, is there actually a major where you compare books?"

"In a nutshell, yes."

"Sounds perfect for you."

"Thank you, I think. After a week of knowing you, I'm not sure that's a compliment."

Marley shrugs. "I'm not offering you any explanations. Take it or leave it, Fabray."

An angry voice from the row behind them shushes them. Marley and Quinn both giggle but quiet down as the theater goes fully dark, and the show begins.

Quinn hasn't been to a planetarium before, let alone a planetarium sky show. She's a little apprehensive, despite reading the brochure and being reassured by the technical specs of the show and facilities. And despite knowing what to expect, how long the show is, and that it's just a show…

… she still tenses when the planet Jupiter looms out of the darkness.

Quinn feels Marley shift beside her, but the other girl says nothing.

Slowly, Quinn starts to relax and enjoy the show. Her knowledge of the solar system has been limited to everything that's been covered in high school science, as well as what she's read in her books, so it's refreshing to learn more and in scientific detail.

Quinn leans over to Marley. "Definitely better than driving to the middle of nowhere for impromptu stargazing," she whispers. Marley snorts, and the angry voice from behind hisses at them to shut up.

Throughout the show, Quinn fights the urge to look at Marley. She keeps her eyes focused on the show, but fails miserably with her thoughts.

They've spent a week together, with another to go. It's ridiculous that she's in so deep so quickly, but Quinn can't make her mind see logic.

Maybe she'll call Santana and whine about it – safely out of Marley's earshot, for sure. Quinn thinks she might actually die if Marley overheard everything like it was the plot of some trashy TV show.

God, she's tense. Her neck feels rigid from all the effort of not looking at Marley. Quinn takes a few deep breaths, using a technique she learned from her time in the Cheerios to calm herself.

* * *

The sun is setting as they step out of the planetarium. Quinn feels invincible. It feels strange to be so content with a day that she had no hand in planning.

"Remind me again what's next," says Quinn, who knows perfectly well what's next.

"Dinner," says Marley. "But look at this!" She practically runs towards the railing separating the walkway from the water. They can see the Chicago skyline from here, the setting sun causing the buildings' reflections in the water to change color. As they watch, the city lights come on.

Quinn rests her arms on the railing. She loves water, always has; it calms her like nothing else does. "You know, one of the reasons I loved Cheerios was going to Atlantic City."

"What?"

Quinn laughs. "Lima's inland, so I didn't get to see water unless I went camping with my dad. Nationals were in Atlantic City, on the pier right next to the beach." She looks down, watches the lake water lap at the concrete wall. The sight, as well as the soft rushing sound soothes her.

Marley moves to stand beside Quinn. Out of the corner of her eye, Quinn can see her face in profile. "There was a lake just outside of the town I grew up in," Marley begins. "We went there on a school trip once; something about ecology and the water cycle? I don't even remember. I was more excited about the lake."

Quinn chuckles softly. "Did you fall in?"

Marley scowls. "How did you know?"

"Whenever I hear these kinds of stories, someone ends up falling in. I made a lucky guess."

"Figures. You've got something against me, haven't you?"

_If only you knew_, thinks Quinn. Aloud, she says: "I've done nothing but comment on what I've been noticing over the past week."

"A week? It's been that long?"

"More or less, yeah. Time flies, doesn't it?"

Marley leans back. A breeze rolls in, ruffling her hair, making her shirt tail flap. "Yeah, it really does. It didn't feel like a week at all… this trip has been amazing so far. More than I'd ever imagined."

Because Quinn is a sucker for punishment, she goes ahead and asks. "What _did _you imagine it to be? Can't be anything good, since Santana got to you first."

"No!" Marley lets out a loud guffaw. "First impressions don't matter all that much to me, to be honest. I mean – you never know anything for sure 'til you go and do it yourself, you know?" She tucks her hands together on the railing. "This is the first time I'm going out on my own – technically. It feels like the first day of the rest of my life. It's exhilarating."

Quinn thinks it's poetic. "I think I know what you mean."

Marley straightens up. "Hey, there's a bench over there. Let's go sit."

"What about dinner?" Quinn protests, laughing a little.

"The weather's way too nice not to sit out here and enjoy. I won't starve if we're a little late, I promise," Marley says.

It's impossible to turn down an invitation like that. Quinn sits down and watches the sky go from orange-red, to violet, to deep indigo. The summer heat recedes just as quickly, thanks to the cool breeze coming in from the lake, and Quinn finds her denim jacket isn't as warm as she'd expected it to be. She shifts, pulling the jacket around her.

Marley notices. "Hey. You cold?"

"No," Quinn says reflexively. When Marley scoffs at her, Quinn adds: "Sorry. Knee jerk reaction. Just a little, but we're going indoors soon, so it's fine."

"I have a sweater in my backpack if you want it."

"It's okay," says Quinn, but Marley's already rummaging through her bag, pulling a cozy-looking sweater out. It looks very Marley; the pattern faded from multiple washes, worn through in some places. Quinn knows it'll be as comfortable as it looks.

"Marley, I'm already wearing a jacket," she laughs. "How am I gonna put that on?"

"Put the sweater on underneath your jacket. Or ditch the jacket. I'm not gonna tell you how to live your life." Marley has a half-smile on her face as she offers the sweater to Quinn.

Quinn makes a last-ditch attempt. "Don't you need it?" she asks, nodding at the flannel shirt Marley has over her T-shirt.

"Nah. I just need to button this up, see…" She buttons it closed, and rolls down the sleeves of the shirt, buttoning the cuffs as well. "Done."

"Your flannel is thinner than the sweater and jacket."

"It's flannel. I'm warm, don't worry; I run hot-blooded," Marley jokes.

She clearly does, judging from the color in her cheeks Quinn can see. The park lamps have come on, bathing the area in warm yellow light. But Quinn's fairly certain she's the same, thanks to her traitorous imagination. "If you sing, I'm gonna leave you out here."

"Don't worry, I can control myself."

"We should get going," Quinn insists. She stands; after a moment of indecision, she shucks off her jacket and puts on the sweater. The jacket is tied around her waist.

"Nice. Very preppy."

"Hush, you," says Quinn. The sweater smells like Marley's shampoo. She simultaneously regrets and doesn't regret putting it on. "We should get going, c'mon."

* * *

Much to Quinn's surprise, Marley veers off the street into Chinatown. "You feel like having Chinese?" Quinn calls after her.

"It smells so good, Quinn!"

Quinn has to agree with her. Clouds of steam escape a nearby noodle shop when a customer opens the door, filling the air with the scent of ginger, frying garlic, and chicken broth. But she can't help but to be apprehensive; the closest Quinn has come to Chinese food is at Rachel's house whenever she stayed for dinner after school projects. Her father had never approved of any "foreign" foods when she was growing up.

Marley, she knows, is very knowledgeable about food. She's proved as much by picking 'famous' places (which Quinn has never heard of) to patronize. But it seems that she's also adventurous, which makes Quinn nervous.

"Do you like Chinese?" Marley asks.

"I've had it a few times," says Quinn uncertainly. Rachel and her dads didn't cook, and dinners when she was at their place always consisted of takeout containers of various cuisines they brought home. She won't say she hates it, but it's still not something she would willingly order.

Marley pauses. "Are you okay with this? We can always go someplace else."

Quinn considers it. "No," she says eventually. "This is fine. Awesome summer vacation, right?"

"Well, I promise we won't die," replies Marley cheerfully. She finds a table near the back and sits down.

Quinn eyes the greasy table and indifferent staff nervously. "Do _you_ like Chinese food?"

"Yeah," says Marley enthusiastically. "Mom and I love food. We don't always get to eat out, but we do like watching all those YouTube cooking videos."

"Cool."

"We'd tried cooking some dishes at home before, but the nearest Asian supermarket is still kinda far, and we had difficulty finding some of the stuff we needed." Marley shrugs. "Mom's dying for me to move to New York and visit some of the places we saw on food blogs."

"Oh, right; New York is pretty diverse."

Marley smiles at her. "You're not that far away; we'll go try some exciting stuff when you come visit me."

And there it is again. Quinn admires Marley's quiet conviction that their friendship will endure past this trip – friendship being the key word, of course. "Maybe you should start a YouTube channel for your food adventures."

"People won't want to watch me eat. They'll be watching and wondering how I function without caffeine," says Marley self-deprecatingly.

Quinn laughs. "I'd almost forgotten about that." She focuses her attention back on the greasy menu, careful not to let herself be caught staring at Marley. "Do you know what you want yet?"

"I haven't got a clue what most of the things here are," replies Marley, deadpan.

"... You could Google stuff?"

"Nah, I think I'll ask the waiter to recommend me something," says Marley, setting her menu down. "Or ask for the house special. The majority of this place's patrons can't be wrong, right?"

Quinn blinks. "You're adventurous."

"You've seen me eat my weight in greasy diner food and pancakes, Quinn. I'm sure I can handle Chinese food."

"That's true," says Quinn, wrinkling her nose. She's of the opinion that Marley's regular diet is tougher on the stomach than an exotic Chinese dish would be.

Marley waves at the man standing in the corner of the restaurant, smiling eagerly as he makes his way over to them. "Hi," she says, "what's your house special?"

"Sesame pork noodles," he replies.

"Are they spicy?"

"We can make it non-spicy if you want."

"Nah, I'll have it as-is." Marley turns to Quinn, who mulls over her order before deciding on a sweet-and-sour pork on rice and a boba tea.

When the waiter leaves, Quinn blinks in surprise. "I didn't know you like spicy food."

"I'm not sure if I do either."

"You're joking."

Marley shrugs. "Are you gonna help me if I'm defeated by the evil spice?"

"You're kidding, right? I helped you with the postcards _and _the plushes. You owe me big time, Rose."

"I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Quinn shakes her head. She is spared from replying when the waiter returns with Quinn's drink.

"You got boba tea?" Marley asks. She looks a little pink, but Quinn thinks it's because it's warm inside and her flannel shirt is still buttoned all the way up.

"Yeah." Boba tea is one of Quinn's guilty pleasures, after a trip to Columbus with Brittany and Santana. She was glad to see it on the menu.

Marley looks at the drink; Quinn doesn't miss the longing look Marley shoots at it. "That looks nice."

"Do you want a sip?"

"Oh, no, no!" Marley's eyes are wide. "I'm good. Really."

"Really?"

"Okay, maybe one sip."

Quinn pushes the plastic cup across the table to Marley, who happily sips it. "Mmm," she says, chewing on the tapioca boba with relish. "You want some seafood?" She opens her mouth. "See, food."

"That's disgusting. You're a barbarian, and a week of my positive influence hasn't had any effect on your appalling manners," says Quinn lightly.

"I'm just hungry. And excited for dinner. And excited 'cause we're in Chinatown in Chicago, eating real Chinese food. And hungry." She pushes the tea back at Quinn.

"You said hungry twice. Do you have more than one stomach? Are you a cow?" Quinn pushes the tea to Marley again. "I think you need this more than I do."

"You know, that would explain a lot…"

Quinn unwraps her disposable chopsticks, balls up the paper wrapper, and chucks it at Marley's face. It bounces off her cheek. Marley makes a distressed noise and retaliates with her own wrapper. It wasn't balled up tightly enough, and sails off-course. Marley makes another distressed noise. Clearly unhappy with her loss, she retaliates by pushing the tea to Quinn again. Quinn lets it stay on her side of the table.

The waiter interrupts with their food. Marley stares down at her bowl excitedly. "It looks good!"

Quinn eyes the red-tinged noodles warily. "It looks spicy." It smells of danger, very much like Santana's mom's famous homemade extra-spicy salsa, but Quinn doesn't say so.

"I could like spicy," Marley insists stubbornly. "It smells really nice." She sniffs, and immediately her face goes pink.

Quinn has built up a tolerance for spicy food from plenty of dinners at the Lopez residence. She's learned to appreciate stir-fries and _dim sum_ from dinners with the Berrys. But she wouldn't eat whatever Marley is taking a big bite of. She watches Marley warily, her boba tea hovering in front of her face to hide her trepidation.

The reaction starts slow, with Marley's cheeks going a deeper shade of red. "Wow," she says, fanning her face, "just wow."

"Is it bad?"

"No," says Marley. She takes another bite.

Quinn shrugs with feigned nonchalance, and goes back to her food.

"Okay, fine, it's spicy."

Quinn slides the boba tea to Marley with deliberate slowness. Marley shoots an aggrieved glare at Quinn, who looks away, expression faux-angelic.

Marley relents, and takes a long draught of boba tea. "I'm dying. It's so good, but it's _so_ hot."

"No one is good at eating spicy food at first. You have to build up your tolerance." She won't laugh at Marley and trick her into eating extra-spicy enchiladas like Santana did. Instead, Quinn gives Marley a little half-smile, and offers her sweet-and-sour pork to her. "Have some of this? It's really good."

Marley's eyes flicker. She seems to recognize the gesture for what it is. Slowly, she reaches for the spoon and takes a bite. Her expression changes. "Hey, this _is _pretty good."

"I'm right most of the time," says Quinn teasingly. "You should trust me more often."

"Ha ha. You're modest, too."

"You wanna order a drink of your own?" Quinn asks, watching Marley's face turn dangerous shades of crimson. The boba tea is already half-empty.

"Nah. I'm good." She flashes Quinn a cheesy thumbs-up, which Quinn snorts at.

Shaking her head, she stands up and grabs Marley's noodles (Marley lets out a muffled, "Mmmph!"), replacing them with her food. She digs into Marley's noodles. They are spicy, but not unbearably so; they're just past the upper threshold of Quinn's tolerance, and she has (the remains of) her boba tea to balance it out. "Mmm. These are pretty good. No wonder they're the house special," she says placidly.

"Quinn! Give it back here. I've got to train up my spice tolerance, right?"

"Not by annihilating your tastebuds." Quinn's eyes sparkle with mirth. This is something she can do for Marley. "Here, put a little sauce on the rice and mix it up."

"I can't believe you stole my food," says Marley, sounding mildly exasperated. "Don't you want this back?"

"I like yours better," lies Quinn. "I'll give you my boba if you let me keep the noodles."

"That's not… it's hardly a fair trade," protests Marley.

"Then buy me another boba. You already got your juvenile germs on that one," says Quinn, and adds in a stage whisper: "Seafood indeed."

* * *

Her stomach burns pleasantly. Quinn sighs, content with her decisions. "Where to, now? Back to the motel?" she asks Marley.

Marley sighs. "Part of me wants to, but…" She casts a longing look at the park, the street lit exterior of the Adler Planetarium in the distance. "It's such a nice night, and I am kinda full. I wanna walk all the rice off."

Quinn knows her well enough to recognize the reluctance in Marley's voice. "We can go for a walk," she says, and Marley lights up. "It's still your day, after all, so your call."

"Awesome," says Marley, and speeds up her pace. The summer night has gotten colder, so Quinn doesn't take off the sweater. Marley, much to Quinn's horror, has rolled up the sleeves of her flannel again. She pauses to unbutton the top two buttons of the shirt, tongue peeking out of her mouth as she concentrates. It's a full-time effort for Quinn not to stare at her.

"Aren't you cold at all?" grumbles Quinn, deliberately not looking at her.

"No?"

"You're a scientific enigma."

"That's what my mom says." Marley looks up. "Hey, look at that big bright star up there!"

Quinn smirks. She's learned that Marley is terrible at banter, and is equally terrible at changing the subject to distract from her terrible banter. But she plays along. "What, the moon?" Quinn asks innocently.

"You doofus," Marley says, and dissolves into a fit of giggles. "Okay, fine, I'll admit it. How did you know what I was gonna say?"

"You date Sam Evans and you'll pick up a few things whether you like it or not."

Surprisingly, the mention of Sam affects Marley, completely unlike the last time they talked about boys. "Oh?" she says, and falls silent. It's a little too dark to see her face clearly, and Quinn assumes she's thinking about something else.

Really, they should spend less time in the dark. Not being able to read every single emotion on Marley's face and thus extrapolate Marley's thoughts and feelings is a major handicap for Quinn.

Quinn clears her throat. "Yeah," she says, a belated response to Marley's comment. She's interpreting it as an invitation to elaborate. "We're still friends. I think we work better that way."

"Really?"

The one word answers from Marley are making Quinn nervous. Just before she can say something, Marley adds: "How did you know? Like – that you didn't like him that way?"

Quinn's heart beats faster. "He kissed me after a date," she says, quietly. "It was a nice kiss, really, and he seemed so happy that I kissed him back. But I was talking to San and Brittany afterwards, and they didn't seem very impressed." Quinn frowned. "They said it should be more than just nice. I had no idea what they were talking about. It was just sweet and I liked kissing him."

"It wasn't until much later when I found out that it's not supposed to be just _nice_. It's supposed to be… _more_." For someone who read a book a week, she was having trouble putting it in words. "You're supposed to want the other person all the time. To feel their absence when they're gone, to drown in them when they're with you but still not get enough." She cleared her throat nervously. "That applies to kissing, too."

Marley is close enough for Quinn to hear the soft exhale. "And you didn't feel any of that with Sam?"

"No."

"How did you find out what it's supposed to be like?"

Quinn feels trapped. She's not ready to come out, in every sense of the word; and especially not to someone who she's only known for a couple of months. Someone who she's been crushing on for less than a week. "Rachel told me," she deflects. It's not an outright lie – Rachel _was _responsible for her now-profound understanding – but it's not the truth, either. Quinn is satisfied with her answer.

A part of Quinn wishes Marley would sense her discomfort and drop the subject, as she's done a few times before. But there's another part of her that wants to follow this thread to its dangerous end, tempted by the slim chance of what might happen. "Where's all of this coming from?" she asks, giving a short, self-conscious laugh.

Marley stops walking. It takes Quinn a moment to notice, but she doesn't immediately turn around. "Marley?"

When no answer is immediately forthcoming, Quinn turns around to see Marley standing right behind her, expression unreadable. She opens her mouth to apologize, afraid she's said something wrong –

Which is quickly forgotten when Marley closes the distance between them, leans forward, and kisses her.


	7. Chicago, Illinois (Day 2)

**Author's Notes:** I hope this chapter is worth the cliffhanger! As always, big thanks for _**Mike Ownby**_, who did his usual touch-up on all my pesky Americanisms (though this author's note remains a British English haven, ha) and helped streamline the content.

* * *

Quinn remembers her first kiss well.

She was at one of Puck's parties – one of her first as a Cheerio. Quinn proudly wore her uniform to the party, enjoying the attention she got from all the boys present. Finn Hudson, one of the football team jocks, stumbled over, told her she was hot, and asked if he could kiss her. Quinn had said yes, of course; she'd seen him around a few times when cheering for his games, and even the senior Cheerios thought Finn was cute. He was future high school royalty, and Quinn did agree with the seniors that he _was _cute (kind of); she couldn't have asked for a better guy for her first kiss.

The kiss itself was pretty underwhelming, considering all the hype that went into it. He'd mashed his lips against hers and held them there without moving. Just when Quinn was about to push him away, Finn had backed up, goofy smile on his face, and asked her to be his girlfriend. Quinn agreed, naturally; what Finn lacked in kissing skills, he more than made up for in popularity. Besides, they would have plenty of opportunity to practice kissing if they were gonna date through high school and maybe get married after.

This isn't her first kiss. It's not even her first kiss with a girl. But none of those first kisses match up to this one, which –

– is still happening.

Quinn kisses back tentatively. She would be lying if she were to say this isn't everything she's been dreaming of for a while now, but –

She puts a few inches of space between them, enough for her to catch her breath. "Marley?"

Slowly, Marley's eyes flutter open. Her face is flushed, her lips parted. They're still close enough for Quinn to feel Marley's breath on her cheek.

Seconds pass. Marley's eyes close, and she leans forward to kiss Quinn again. This time, Quinn is prepared; her right hand comes up to rest on Marley's cheek, steadying them both. She inhales softly when she feels Marley's hand on her neck.

It takes every bit of her self-control not to lose herself in the kiss. Quinn hums in pleasure, which turns into a soft moan when Marley's tongue traces Quinn's lip, gently yet firmly exploring her.

Marley's skin is so soft under Quinn's fingertips. She runs her thumb over the curve of Marley's jaw, enjoying the little ragged breath Marley draws in response.

Quinn breaks the kiss reluctantly. She would much rather be kissing Marley until the end of time, but they have so much to talk about. It cheers her up somewhat when Marley seems just as unwilling to stop kissing her. "Marley," she says again.

She whines but reluctantly, slowly, steps away.

Once they are at a safe distance, Quinn breathes out slowly. "You kissed me," she says stupidly.

"I did," replies Marley. Her hands are clasped together in front of her.

She has so much to say, Quinn doesn't know where to begin. She needs more time to gather her thoughts, thoroughly scattered by the kiss. "You… " Quinn begins.

But before she can finish, Marley says: "I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I'm sorry," repeats Marley, voice stronger. "I've read this all wrong. I'll understand if you don't feel the same way."

"What?" says Quinn, completely incapable of independent thought now that her train of thought is completely derailed. "I – no, that's not what I was gonna say."

"Oh." Marley's teeth show briefly as she bites down on her lower lip, her expression uncertain.

"Why did you kiss me?" Quinn asks. Her voice wavers despite her best efforts.

Marley's smile is barely there. "The other night in Grand Rapids, I thought _you_ were gonna kiss _me_."

"And?"

Marley shrugs. "You didn't. I thought I'd imagined the whole thing. But I couldn't stop thinking about you since, and kissing you, so…" She waves a hand carelessly. "I finally worked up the courage to kiss you."

Quinn stares at her. "You kissed me because you thought I was going to kiss you?"

"You were talking about kissing Sam and getting to know for sure how you felt," replies Marley simply. "It seemed like the perfect time."

Quinn worries her lower lip between her teeth. "I _was_ going to kiss you that night," she admits. She is watching Marley carefully as she speaks, her voice slow and deliberate, and she sees Marley's eyes brighten – then cloud in confusion.

"... Why didn't you?"

Quinn laughs, a sharp incredulous sound. "We're both girls, Marley. Imagine what it would be like if I kissed you and you pushed me away? We'd be stuck together for another week, imagine how awkward it would be."

"_I_ kissed _you_, and _you_ didn't push _me_ away." Marley takes a step closer.

Quinn sighs. "I'm gay," she says, voice wavering a tiny bit. "I wasn't being completely honest with you earlier. Rachel didn't tell me anything. I found out what kissing someone was supposed to be like because I kissed her."

"You what?"

"She's not gay, but she helped me figure the rest out." Quinn frowns. "I had a hard time accepting it all, but once I did, I quit Cheerios. I had too much going on."

"Oh." Quinn can practically see the cogs turning in Marley's head. "Quinn, do you _like_ me?"

"I…" She isn't sure why the words stick in her throat. Quinn didn't have a problem admitting to herself that she has a crush on Marley all this while. For god's sake, she was kissing Marley five minutes ago, a kiss that _Marley_ initiated. "It's complicated."

"Complicated?" Marley lets out a surprised laugh. "Quinn, it's a yes or no question. Which actually, you don't even need to answer because you kissed me back."

"It's not just that," says Quinn. "We barely know each other. We'll be done with this trip in a few more days."

"What does any of that have to do with what I'm asking you?"

Quinn grits her teeth. "Nothing, which is what should have happened between us," she says. "I shouldn't have kissed you back. We should have had a great vacation, and in the fall, you would've gone to New York, and me to New Haven."

Marley just stares at her, hurt and confusion written all over her face. "Is that what you want? For nothing to happen?"

"I can't do this right now," says Quinn. "Please, Marley."

"Quinn, I'm just trying to understand. Why can't you tell me whether you like me or not?" Marley's voice trembles. "What's stopping you? What are you so afraid of?"

Quinn presses her teeth into her lower lip. Everything, she's afraid of everything, she wants to say; she wants to tell Marley that she's afraid of having anything at all, because she ends up losing it in the end. "What do you want from me, Marley?"

"What?"

"Okay, I have a crush on you," says Quinn, voice trembling. "That's why I nearly kissed you that night. Is that what you want to hear?" Memories float in her mind, of the boys she's dated and the girl she kissed. "What happens now?"

Marley just stares at her. She takes another step forward. Slowly, she lifts her right hand until her fingertips rest lightly on Quinn's cheek. Quinn flinches; looking hurt, Marley withdraws her hand. "Nothing. This doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to."

Quinn backs away, hugging herself tightly. "It's getting late," says Quinn quietly. "We should get back to the motel." She turns and walks away.

"Quinn."

"Can we not talk about this now?" Quinn pleads.

Marley sighs. "Okay."

* * *

Quinn drives. Marley spends the entire ride staring out the window, determinedly not looking at Quinn.

Her stomach is churning. Marley kissed her. Marley _kissed _her. She should be happy; she's wanted to kiss Marley for what feels like forever. But she's ruined everything. She ruins everything that's good just by touching it, and it shouldn't be a surprise to her that she's ruined this as well.

Why is she so afraid of this?

Quinn's no stranger to rejection. Finn, her own parents… even Rachel had let her down, albeit Rachel had done it in the gentlest way possible. And here she is, with someone she likes, and who seems to like her back. It's not rejection; it's the farthest possible from it.

But, says the little voice in her mind, their situation _is _complicated. They're halfway through their road trip, and at the end of the summer, they'll be headed for two different cities. The whole point of this road trip was to enjoy the brief period of leisure between school and make memories, not pack more emotional baggage for Quinn to carry to Yale.

College is supposed to be her fresh start. She can't make a fresh start if she's hung up over a summer fling, and Marley deserves far more than to be just a casual summer fling. She is beautiful, she is kind, and she is far too loving and generous to be strung along and ultimately hurt by someone like Quinn.

If only Quinn could tell her that walking away would hurt Quinn more than it could ever hurt Marley.

* * *

Marley hesitates in the doorway of their motel room.

Quinn notices. "What is it?" she asks, careful not to sound harsh or impatient.

"I can – are you okay with sharing a room?" _After what just happened_, goes unsaid.

"Of course," says Quinn. "Nothing has changed." She pretends she doesn't notice Marley flinch. "You can use the bathroom first," Quinn adds, turning and bending over her bags, pretending to be engrossed with searching for something.

When the bathroom door clicks shut, Quinn collapses on her bed with a sigh. She feels heavy, when she feels like she should be flying. She really, really hopes that she'll be able to look back on this in a couple of years and smile at how dramatic she was, instead of feeling that she's making the biggest mistake of her life right now.

* * *

Quinn sleeps surprisingly well, and wakes up early the next morning. Marley hasn't said a word to her since she asked about their sleeping arrangements, but it doesn't matter since there doesn't need to be much talking today. Quinn has planned a day of museums and galleries, and with a little luck they can scrape past the day in silence.

Marley isn't in the room when Quinn is done with the bathroom. She's grateful for it; she isn't sure she can face Marley right now, when all her walls are still down and she hasn't had the time and space to put her walls back up again.

_Hey where r u? _she texts Marley.

**Lobby srry **

Marley sits up straight when Quinn approaches, a blush decorating her cheeks.

"H-hey," says Marley. "Mornin'. Did you sleep well?"

All the quiet determination and bravado of last night seems to have fled. Marley seems to have reverted to the person who approached Quinn on the bleachers months ago.

Quinn hates it.

"Yeah," she says, her gaze sliding sideways. "You?"

"Me too." She stands. "We should go."

For all Quinn had thought of cutting their trip short because it would be awkward, she doesn't actually want to do it. This is stupid. The whole thing is stupid; why did Marley have to kiss her? Why did she have to kiss Marley back?

They could be doing more kissing. But instead, Marley's not really talking to her and Quinn can't fix it.

* * *

Quinn uses their fake IDs to get discounts to the art museum. She catches a hint of a smile from Marley before it's gone, and Marley is pressing her lips together and looking away.

She's miserable like she's never been before; not even after Rachel told her she didn't like Quinn the way Quinn liked her. And what's worse, it's almost entirely self-inflicted.

* * *

Somewhere after the Museum of Contemporary Art, Marley stops in the middle of the sidewalk.

"Quinn."

Quinn squares her shoulders. She's not ready for this confrontation. She doesn't think she'll ever be ready. "Marley…"

"We really need to talk about this," snaps Marley. "Let's go back to the motel, I'm not doing this in public."

"We're not doing anything," Quinn says, her tone wheedling. "Let's just get the trip over and done with. You can hate me all you want then. Or we can even cut this short and head back to Lima tomorrow."

She starts when Marley marches in front of her. She's angry, but Quinn can see tears in her eyes; guilt eats at her.

"Quinn, please. I can't do this, and neither can you. Can we… let's just go back to the motel. I don't think I can go through the day with us like this."

Quinn relents.

* * *

Once the door clicks shut behind them, Marley wastes no time rounding on Quinn. "Okay, why are you doing this, Quinn? Why are you pretending you don't like me, when you're clearly miserable about it?"

The tone of Marley's voice stings Quinn out of her sulk. "I'm not miserable," replies Quinn sourly. Which is true; she's angry at herself, and at Marley for not letting her sulk in peace.

"Yes, you are. I like you, Quinn, and I think you like me too. What is so hard about that?"

"I don't think we should be starting anything now, that's all." Quinn avoids any discussion of feelings.

"I'm not – we're not starting anything. I just want to spend this summer with you."

The way Marley says the words makes them seem golden. She sees it all in a flash: driving with the windows open, exchanging kisses in the lazy fashion only people truly comfortable with each other can. Her heart longs for that.

"Then let's go back out there," says Quinn, tamping down her emotions. "Let's go on with the plan."

Marley growls. "God, you're frustrating!"

"Well, get used to it," snaps Quinn. "This is who I am."

"No, it's not." Quinn sees the tightness of Marley's jaw, the anger simmering beneath the surface. "Why are you trying so hard to push me away?"

"Is it working?"

Marley's mouth twitches. "No."

Quinn looks away. "You know why, Marley. We can't do this – any of this. You're not gay," Quinn bites out, ignoring how the words cut into her. "_I_ am. I'm sorry if I've confused you, or if I've done anything to lead you on. None of this was supposed to happen, and I'm sorry for that."

"Is that what you think?" Marley looks hurt. "That you turned me gay?"

"We're both girls, what does that make you?" Quinn shoots back.

"We've both dated boys too," replies Marley. "Yet you kissed Rachel, and I kissed you."

"You've only ever kissed me," reples Quinn, her heart pounding in her ears. "How do you even know if you like girls?"

Marley makes a noise of frustration. "Look, it's not about liking girls or guys. Quinn, you – you don't know how important you are to me. I know it's crazy given how little time we've spent together, but… the last week has been one of the happiest of my life. You're the first person I think about in the morning, and the last thing at night. I've never felt this comfortable, this – _myself –_ with any other person."

"You'd probably feel the same way about Jake if you spent a week with him."

Marley shakes her head, as though struggling to follow Quinn's logic. "I don't need to know if I like girls or not. I don't care," she says, ignoring Quinn's words completely. "All I know is, I like _you_. I want to kiss _you_. I don't need to kiss other girls to know whether I like you or not."

"Yes, you do!" bursts out Quinn violently. If Marley wants a fight, Quinn will give her one. "You can't do this. We can't. You're more important than that – " Quinn stops short, angry with herself.

"More important than what?"

Quinn closes her eyes. "You shouldn't like me," she says, deflecting. She doesn't understand how that managed to slip out.

"Quinn, are you crazy? You're _amazing_. I think I'm more surprised that someone like you would like _me_."

"What?" Quinn says, frowning. "_You're_ surprised? You're just – why wouldn't anyone like you? You make the most mundane things interesting. You say the strangest, most random things, which would be annoying if it came from anyone but you."

Marley looks a little pink. "The same question applies to you as well," she says, not meeting Quinn's eyes.

"No, it doesn't," replies Quinn without thinking.

"Do you really think you're unlovable?" asks Marley, clearly exasperated. "Because you're not. You're beautiful, and strong, and funny; and you have the biggest heart."

"I'm difficult."

"If that was supposed to scare me, it didn't."

Quinn doesn't laugh. "No one's ever liked me for me," she mumbles. "The boys – Puck, Finn, even Sam. They wanted to be with me 'cause I was pretty and popular and Head Cheerio. And Rachel didn't want me at all." A bitter laugh escapes her.

"I'm not Finn. Or Sam. Or Rachel," Marley answers her quietly. "And I like you because you teach me about worlds that I didn't know before. You laugh with me. You look after me. The rest doesn't matter to me, Quinn. I like you for _you_."

"I can't give you a relationship," Quinn whispers. "We're going our separate ways after all this."

"... Is that what you were so worried about, this entire time?" Marley asks.

"I've never done this with a girl before. I don't know what to expect."

"I'm definitely not saying we have to be in a relationship just because we kissed. We don't have much time left together, it doesn't make sense."

Quinn presses her lips together. "Exactly my point."

"I promise I won't fall in love with you, if that's what you're so afraid of," says Marley, shaking her head. "What's wrong with wanting you?"

Quinn shakes her head. "Are you so devoid of emotional self-preservation? You'd rather we be together for a week and never see each other again? Why are you so intent on being so emotionally invested in something that's not gonna work out?"

Marley looks her in the eye, her gaze so bright and intent Quinn has to look away for fear of being burned. "You're worth it, Quinn. Every second of being with you. Even if I end up being Icarus, I would much rather have tried and failed, rather than regret not trying at all."

"... did you just reference Greek mythology?"

"I thought you might listen to that if everything else failed."

The shy smile Marley gives her makes all of Quinn's excuses dry up on her tongue. She has never been so _wanted_; she has never been made to feel like she is worth every risk. With Marley…

… she feels like she can let herself _want_.

"I…" She pauses to lick suddenly dry lips. "Are you sure?"

Marley's answer is to come closer, tilting her face ever-so-slightly to one side. She doesn't kiss Quinn, however; she hovers just inches away, a small smile on her face, her eyes shining. The message is clear to Quinn.

So, Quinn kisses her.

She feels Marley smile into the kiss, and exhilaration floods through her body. Quinn presses closer, her fingers finding soft fabric and holding on.

This time, when Marley kisses her back, it is not soft or tentative. Her hands cup Quinn's face; she seems intent on showing Quinn how much she wants this, wants her. She traces the seam of Quinn's lower lip with her tongue, eliciting a soft groan from Quinn.

Quinn is functioning on autopilot now. She deepens the kiss, wanting more. Her grip on Marley's shirt tightens, and she pulls her closer. Marley lets a soft 'oh' escape her before their mouths slide together again, with more fervor.

The backs of Quinn's legs bump against the bed; she breaks the kiss, surprised. "I," she begins, and doesn't complete the sentence. Quinn feels dazed and giddy, and so happy she feels like she might burst.

Marley, flushed crimson, licks her lips. Quinn follows the movement of her tongue with her eyes.

"Wow."

Quinn laughs softly. _Wow _is also something she might have said, if her brain hadn't quit on her halfway. She sits down. "Come here," she says, looking up at Marley and trying not to blush harder.

Marley doesn't need to be told twice; she scrambles forward eagerly. Her head would have almost collided with Quinn's mouth if Quinn hadn't scooted backwards in the nick of time. But the awkward moment is forgotten almost instantly when their lips meet in the middle again.

Quinn can feel the mattress shift on either side of her body where Marley's knees are pressed. Marley is straddling Quinn's lap, and Quinn's mouth goes dry at the realization. There isn't a single rational thought in Quinn's mind. All she can think of is Marley, and how much she's wanted this – wants this.

Marley is considerably taller than Quinn when she's straddling Quinn's lap, a fact she takes advantage off. Her arms are around Quinn's neck, just as Quinn grabs onto Marley's waist. Quinn catches a hint of a smile before Marley bends her head and they're kissing again. Her tongue darts into Quinn's mouth; Quinn sucks on it, enjoying the surprised noise Marley makes. Quinn splays her hands across Marley's lower back, ostensibly supporting her but really trying to touch as much of Marley as she possibly can.

She needs to breathe. Reluctantly, Quinn pulls back, just enough so their foreheads are still pressed together. Quinn breathes in Marley's scent, willing her heart to stop trying to beat its way out of her chest.

When she opens her eyes, all Quinn can see is Marley, eyes bright and face flushed, her lips parted and glistening. She thinks she might be grinning like a fool; she isn't sure.

Marley doesn't break eye contact; her hand moves to cup Quinn's cheek, thumb rubbing comforting circles on her skin. Quinn subtly leans into the touch.

She can't remember feeling this happy. She feels desired; the warmth filling her chest.

"You kissed me," says Marley, sounding unreasonably happy. And also smug, but Quinn lets that go.

Quinn scoffs at her. "I did." Her smile is wide, and it probably gives her away.

Marley dips her head and pecks Quinn on the cheek. "Can we stay in so I can keep kissing you?"

"We're leaving Chicago the day after tomorrow and you want to spend our time in the room?"

Marley nods, once. She drops her head so her face is buried in Quinn's shoulder, which is…

Adorable. Quinn finds it adorable. "Well, that's not fair. After all, we went to all the places you wanted to go yesterday, and today was supposed to be my day."

She had meant it as a joke, but immediately Marley stiffens and straightens up, her expression horrified. "Oh shoot, I didn't mean it that way, I – why are you laughing at me?"

"I'm not," says Quinn, then presses her lips together.

"You are!"

"No. You're delusional."

Marley finally gets that she's being teased. She narrows her eyes. "I still can't tell if you're joking or not."

"Work at it." Quinn gives one last tug on the lock of hair curling over Marley's ear, then extracts herself with an expertise honed from plenty of ex-boyfriends. She relishes the sudden hunger in Marley's eyes.

It hits Quinn then, that she has no idea how to _be_ with someone. With the boys, it was easy. She held the power in the relationship but let the boys think they were in charge.

She doesn't want to do that with Marley. Which actually – it shouldn't even be a factor, considering that they'll be going their separate ways after a week. This isn't a relationship.

It occurs to Quinn, then, that for all the talking they've done, there hasn't been much agreed on.

"Marley?"

"Hmm?"

"I think we need to, uh, talk." She clears her throat, because it sounds terrible and she needs a do-over. "About what's gonna happen for the rest of the trip. With us."

Marley watches her. "Oh."

"I just, I'd feel better if I knew what to expect. Or not expect." She sighs.

"I'm already promised you I'm not gonna fall in love with you," replies Marley. "Everything else is kinda… winging it." She glances down then.

"Winging it?"

"I'd like to keep on kissing you," says Marley, and the bluntness makes Quinn blush.

"I'd like that too," Quinn admits, and is rewarded with a smile. "I think we can work with that."

Marley starts laughing hysterically, and doesn't stop; even when Quinn throws a pillow at her.

* * *

Quinn really should have anticipated what comes after kissing Marley. For a moment, it feels like nothing has changed; but Marley turns to her to say something, and the sparkle in her eyes makes heat rise in Quinn's cheeks.

Embarrassingly enough, it's rather like the cheesy love songs they perform in Glee, that is an integral part of their setlists because Mr Schue is so fond of them. At least she's not singing and dancing on the sidewalk, like Rachel Berry might have.

Instead, Quinn gives the girl beside her a small shy smile, and asks: "Did you still want that ice cream?"

Marley emits a soft groan. "Maybe later. Lunch first, I've been looking forward to this."

"You've been looking forward to every meal on this trip so far," remarks Quinn, and Marley scowls at her.

"Maybe, but I've heard plenty of good things about deep dish pizza."

Quinn laughs. "You should go on a food tour of all fifty states someday."

Marley brightens, clearly excited. "You'll be the first person I call when that happens."

At this point, Quinn still doesn't know what to feel whenever Marley talks about the future. It's a little ridiculous given that she isn't even talking about them being together, but Quinn isn't accustomed to thinking about her future. Up until she got pregnant, Quinn had thought she would marry her high school sweetheart and build a white picket fence life together. That was replaced with getting out of Lima but she'd spared little thought for what came after.

"Hey."

Quinn blinks. Marley is smiling at her.

"You zoned out for a while back there. You okay?"

"Yeah. Just… thinking about pizza," says Quinn.

Marley purses her lips at Quinn. "Yeah, I'll buy that," she says, then bumps Quinn's elbow, grinning at her.

"I swear it's the truth," mock-protests Quinn. "You know me; I've been dying to eat real Chicago deep-dish pizza _forever_."

Marley laughs and shakes her head. For a moment there, it seems like everything is the same as it always was – but then Marley's smile softens, and Quinn's heart skips a beat.

Marley puts her face very close to Quinn's. "Liar," she says softly. Her eyes flicker downwards, then back up, as she smiles.

Quinn's brain short-circuits.

By the time she blinks, Marley is back at a safe distance, her attention on her phone. "I'm starving," she says, tilting her phone and making the arrow on the screen wobble crazily. "I hope we're getting there soon."

Forget the arrow: Quinn's head is spinning. And here she thought she invented the motto "all the teasing, none of the pleasing". She thinks she might understand why the boys looked so frustrated all the time, and she offers up a silent apology.

* * *

When walking in Millenium Park, it is impossible to miss Cloud Gate. Even though it's not on Quinn's original plan, she's incapable of saying no to Marley. The work doesn't appeal to Quinn much, but she can appreciate the artist's vision as she stares at her reflection in the curved surface of the sculpture. Quinn is certain, however, that he didn't intend for her to interpret the distorted version of herself as an appropriate metaphor for her life.

"You never really answered my question," she says without looking at Marley. "Why me?"

It takes a while for Marley to get into the same serious conversation headspace as Quinn, but when she eventually does, it's with a warm smile directed at Quinn. "I've never felt this way about a girl before – that is, had the same feelings for a girl the same as I've had for boys."

"That doesn't say much. Do you spend a lot of time with other girls at school?"

"Well – no."

"So do you go 'round falling in love with whoever you spend a week with?" She didn't mean for the question to come out sounding so confrontational, but when she thinks about it, she realizes it's something she's been meaning to ask for a while.

"Quinn, that's not fair," says Marley, frowning. "I'd love to say that you're special, this is the first time I've ever felt this way about anyone, but I don't know what I'm doing. All I know is that I like you, and I want to be spending all the time we have left living to the fullest. It's really that simple."

"A girlfriend for a week," remarks Quinn, trying not to sound too sarcastic.

"I'm eighteen," says Marley, snorting. "I've only ever dated two guys. I kissed a girl for the first time in my life yesterday. What do I know about love? I'm definitely not looking for someone to spend the rest of my life with, neither am I lying awake at night trying to figure out if I'm gay or straight. It doesn't matter; it shouldn't matter."

"It matters," says Quinn, "when it changes everything you thought you knew." She drops her gaze from Cloud Gate to the ground, unable to look her twisted reflection in the eye.

"Is that what happened?"

Quinn's mouth twitches. She doesn't need to answer; she knows her thoughts are written on her face as plain as day.

"... You kissed Rachel, and she rejected you." Marley shakes her head. "Now I get what you mean about you and Rachel having a complicated friendship. Bet you were thinking, _oh god if only she knew_."

"Yeah, exactly," admits Quinn. "It was really awkward for a bit. I really wasn't planning on coming out to you – no offense."

"None taken. We really haven't known each other very long, haven't we?"

"You don't _know_ me," blurts Quinn. "Maybe you think you do. I certainly don't know everything about you. I don't understand how you can like me."

"You're saying if I get to know you better, then I won't like you?" Marley tilts her head to one side, as though physically grappling with Quinn's logic. "But by that logic, the less I know you, the more I should like you."

"That doesn't make any sense."

Marley laughs. "No. Nothing about any of this should make sense, but it does." She extends her hand, offering it to Quinn. "It's just a matter of how much you want it."

Quinn shakes her head. "I… you're infuriating."

"I've been told worse." Marley grasps Quinn's wrist and gives it a squeeze. "Why are you fighting so hard? Is this something you really don't want?"

"I've never gotten anything I've wanted," says Quinn quietly. "I destroy everything I touch."

"You're afraid to want this," Marley guesses.

"I'm tired of losing things."

Marley sighs. "I wish there was something I can say or do to help you not feel that way. Or even something that would erase all your doubts, but… there isn't."

Quinn, touched by how much Marley seems to care, makes a bold move – by her standards. She reaches out to hold Marley's hand. "This helps," she admits very softly, looking down at their joined hands..

Beaming, Marley twines their fingers together.

Quinn tries not to blush, and fails.

"I'm sorry that happened to you," says Marley quietly.

"Sorry for what, exactly?" Quinn asks, surprised.

"Everything, I guess. But I think I understand you a little better now, and you know what? I still like you." She grins, swinging their linked hands for emphasis.

Quinn lets out an involuntary snort; partly because she doesn't know how to respond to that, but mostly to cover up how charmed she is by Marley's words.

* * *

"Finally." Marley makes a beeline for her bed, grunting when her body hits the mattress.

"We didn't walk _that _much."

"Please leave me alone to die," grumbles Marley. She rolls to lie on her back.

Quinn seats herself primly on her own bed, crossing her legs. "You're almost as dramatic as Rachel," she says, eyes on her phone as she scrolls through her social media feed.

"_Almost_ is the key word." Marley props herself up on her elbows and pats the bed. "Come over here."

"What?" Quinn's eyes go from Marley, to her hand, then back at Marley. "You – are you being serious?"

"No! Whatever you're thinking, the answer is no!" Marley's blush is something to behold; the color goes all the way down her neck and into her shirt. Quinn tears her eyes away with great difficulty. "I just… you're too far away to cuddle."

Quinn wrinkles her nose, unable to decide if Marley is still joking, or this is a poor attempt at being serious. "Are you actually telling me to go over there so you can cuddle?"

"No! Well – if you wanted to, I wouldn't say no." Amazingly, Marley doesn't blush harder. She looks quite earnest about the entire thing. "Do… do you not want to?"

Quinn is – for lack of a better word – torn. Certainly, she'd like a chance to get close to Marley, but she's never been so blatantly propositioned like that. Even Puck made an attempt at subtlety. In lieu of a verbal response, Quinn rises and moves to Marley's bed. She plumps up the pillows there and leans back against them.

Marley gives her a goofy grin. She flops on her side next to Quinn, head touching Quinn's shoulder; Marley produces her phone from her pocket and starts checking her notifications.

She still has her phone in her hands, fully expecting to have to put it away once Marley initiates kissing. But this lack of action unsettles Quinn. "You _actually_ wanted me close?"

"Hmm?" Marley looks up from her phone. "Yeah. Why?

"I thought it was an excuse and you wanted to make out or something."

Marley grins sheepishly. "Like I said, I wouldn't say no if you wanted to. But just being like this is nice too, isn't it?" She wriggles closer so her entire side is pressing against Quinn's.

Once she's gotten over her preconceived notions of – whatever they are doing, Quinn has to agree. She relaxes. "You're really nothing like I've ever experienced," she says. "But… yeah, this is nice."

Marley makes a pleased sound. "Thats a good thing, right? And almost as nice as _this_?" she asks, then kisses Quinn's cheek. Her lips linger a beat too long, and Quinn takes a breath.

"You liar. You do want to make out, like the horny teenager you are." Quinn turns her head and captures Marley's lips in a proper kiss, relishing the soft happy hum she gets in response.

"Would you have come over if I'd just said: "Let's make out"?"

"Maybe," says Quinn, and enjoys the look of shock on Marley's face. She kisses Marley again, playfully taking Marley's bottom lip in her teeth and tugging.

"Oh fuck," says Marley, and Quinn feels a hand clutch the back of her neck, drawing her in. She goes willingly.

They kiss for what seems like a few minutes to Quinn, until something vibrates on her hip, making her jump.

"Shoot, sorry," says Marley, swatting at her phone.

Quinn catches a glimpse of the time on it and gasps. "It's nearly midnight."

"What? Oh. Wow." Marley laughs sheepishly. "That didn't feel like two hours." Marley rests her head on Quinn's shoulder. "We should probably sleep."

"Right now? Like this?"

Marley shrugs. "Why not? I'm too warm and comfortable to move."

"Gross. Go brush your teeth, I'm not kissing you tomorrow if you have morning breath." Quinn pushes Marley away, ignoring the other girl's pout.

"You can't resist my charms," says Marley, climbing off Quinn and disappearing into the bathroom.

Quinn shakes her head. She still can't believe this is them now, almost exactly twenty-four hours after all the events that almost ruined everything. It's hard to stop smiling, even; Quinn can't believe how happy she is once she's allowed herself to be.

She doesn't have a plan for the next week. It should scare her, but it doesn't.

"You're looking pale."

"Excuse me?"

"I think you've been spending a little too much time in your head," says Marley. She rejoins Quinn, now dressed for bed, wearing her oversized-T-shirt-and-shorts pajama outfit. "You need to get out more often."

Quinn starts to laugh. She laughs so hard her stomach hurts. She curls up in a ball, clutching her middle, still laughing hysterically.

"What?" asks Marley, sticking out her bottom lip in a comical-looking pout.

"You're ridiculous."

"Yeah, tell me something I don't already know. Or you haven't already said to me, like, a thousand times."

"Tomorrow. I guess. Stick around and find out," says Quinn. She gets up and disappears into the bathroom.

* * *

When she reemerges, it's to the sight of Marley still lying on the covers, fast asleep.

"Hey," she whispers, putting her hand on Marley's shoulder.

Marley stirs. "Wha'?"

"You fell asleep. Get under the covers or you'll catch a cold." She collects Marley's phone and sets it on the nightstand.

"Mmph. You're warm."

"Excuse me?" Quinn asks, arching an eyebrow. She hurriedly dodges a flailing hand that nearly knocks her glasses off as Marley rolls over.

"Sleep here tonight and I won't catch a cold," mumbles Marley.

Quinn supposes she's still mostly asleep – though it's hard to tell, because Marley does say too many non sequiturs for Quinn's taste. "That's what blankets are for."

Marley makes a whining noise. "Stay with me?"

She sighs. Curse her for never being able to say no. "Fine," she says shortly, pulling off her glasses and placing them safely out of Marley's reach. When she slides under the covers, Marley immediately puts an arm around Quinn's middle, buries her face in Quinn's neck, and falls asleep again. Quinn finds it very cute.

A part of her still wonders what she's doing, but right now, she's tired and warm and very comfortable, and she chooses to ignore it in favor of enjoying the now..


	8. Chicago, Illinois (Day 3)

**Author's Notes: **This chapter made me realise that I've been getting away without doing research for my fics. Sadly, the setting of this fic makes it nigh impossible to not do any research. _**Mike Ownby **_comes in very handy in clearing up the 'Murican things (incidentally I would like to add that you Americans have a strangest idea re: fair food).

I've also been very lazy with posting my ramblings on this fic on Tumblr. Those will be going up shortly to my Tumblr, **yumi-michiyo.**

This story has a cover image now! Made by _**Mike Ownby**_, keeping up a hallowed tradition started with _The Shortest Distance. _

* * *

Quinn wakes up to snoring.

Marley's snoring hasn't bothered her before, but now her face is right next to Quinn's. That means she gets an earful of it, which she finds that she doesn't care for. "Marley, wake up," mumbles Quinn. She pushes half-heartedly at Marley's shoulder.

"Nnnno."

"Yes." Quinn tries to wriggle out – with little success, since Marley is practically lying on top of her. It would be endearing and sweet and adorable if she wasn't snoring like a freight train. "C'mon, you're heavy," grouses Quinn. Unlike the last time they shared a bed, she isn't trying to not disturb Marley.

"Mmmnot." She mumbles incomprehensibly to herself.

"Yes, you are. I was being nice the other time and didn't say so." She can't help but smile, though, very glad that Marley can't see her face. "We've got a packed day today."

"Mmmkay, Mom."

Quinn bashes her over the head with a pillow. Marley squeals.

"What did you call me?!" Quinn barks, punctuating each word with a whack from the pillow, and finally pressing the pillow on Marley's face.

"Quinn! Quinn, I'm sorry, don't kill me!" comes Marley's muffled gasps. She sounds like she's dying, so Quinn relents and removes the pillow.

Marley _does _look like she's dying – albeit from laughter. "What did I ever do to you that you try and smother me first thing in the morning?" she gasps in between laughs.

"You called me Mom!" Quinn exclaims indignantly.

"You were trying to get me out of bed!"

"You didn't have a problem with that before!"

"The bed wasn't so comfortable before." Marley sits up. Her hand finds the tail of Quinn's shirt, and tugs Quinn down to her level. Marley kisses her briefly, and says: "Isn't this a much better way to wake me up?"

"With morning breath? Whatever floats your boat, I guess," says Quinn. Truthfully, she doesn't mind at all, but she's determined to get back at Marley for calling her Mom. _And _for giving her that look after, that says: _You'll never admit it, but I know you agree with me_.

Marley pouts. "I think I liked you better when you were asleep," she says, and climbs out of bed, giving Quinn and her pillow a wide berth.

* * *

"I still think we should have gone to the Children's Museum," says Quinn.

Marley squints at her. "Why? To entertain your inner child?"

"No, my outer child," replies Quinn, nodding at Marley, who responds with an outraged growl.

Quinn chuckles. She loves how relaxed things have gotten between them, just like when they were just friends. "But the Navy Pier will do just fine, I hope."

Marley's eyes light up. "More than fine," she says eagerly, pressing her hands to her mouth. "You have no idea how excited I am."

Quinn sees Marley add a spring to her step, and raises an eyebrow. "Just as excited as you were for Cedar Point, huh?"

"Cedar Point is a close second," replies Marley loftily, and they both laugh. "Seriously, though; while Cedar Point was great, I'm looking forward to today more."

"Oh?" Quinn asks, genuinely curious; she can't think what could be more exciting than rollercoasters.

Marley beams at her; in spite of herself, Quinn feels her heart flutter. "We're going as an us. You know."

"Oh." As always, Marley's enthusiasm is contagious. "Yeah, you're right."

Marley puts her hands behind her back as she walks. "So, I've been meaning to ask… are you okay with PDA?"

Quinn does her best not to freak out. "You want us to go public?"

"No! I didn't mean that, I meant the small things. Like, can I hold your hand? Or is that too much?" Marley babbles; suddenly, her smile disappears. "'Cause we're not even a proper item, and I dunno how comfortable you are with – you know, the whole world."

There's a pang in her chest when Marley reminds her that they aren't really together, and Quinn hates that it's there. She focuses on the rest of Marley's words. "Holding hands is fine," she says. "Girlfriends do it all the time." She really doesn't have any qualms about something as simple as holding hands. "Making out in the park, however…" That's not something Quinn would do, not even with a society-acceptable guy, and she tells Marley so.

"I would never!" Marley says indignantly. "I'm perfectly capable of keeping it in my pants. The other night didn't count, because it was a first kiss, and first kisses are special."

Sometimes, Quinn thinks Marley may have escaped from a story book, because there's no way she can be real. She quickly says: "Yes, Marley, we can hold hands," before the other girl can launch into what Quinn thinks will be a monologue on the etiquette of romance.

Marley squeaks, before ducking her head. Today, she's wearing a large cabbie's cap which Quinn has seen her wear around school a few times. The wide brim hides her expression from Quinn. "Great. I'm really… I'm glad you want to. You know I'd understand if you said no, right?"

"I know."

And because Marley said it, it's just awkward now for her to take Quinn's hand. She looks expectantly at Quinn instead, who bursts out laughing.

"What?" Marley looks genuinely alarmed, eyes widening. Her blue eyes gleam from under the brim of her cap. "Did I say something?"

"Nothing." Quinn glances at Marley's hand. She presses her teeth into her lower lip briefly, but loses her nerve at the last minute. "C'mon. We don't have all day," she calls over her shoulder.

Marley makes a huffing sound. She catches up with Quinn, then slows her pace to match. Their hands bump together as they walk side by side.

Quinn can feel the anticipation emanating from Marley. She knows the other girl is holding back, waiting for her to make the first move, but the problem is her. Quinn doesn't make the first move if she's uncertain. She doesn't know if Marley knows that.

But she's tired of pretending to be someone she's not. The weeks leading up to her kissing Rachel had been emotionally wearying; there'd been plenty of stressful events piling up, so at the point in time when she'd cornered Rachel in the bathroom, she hadn't been thinking straight – literally.

Marley has made it clear multiple times that Quinn has the final say in what they do. And if Quinn can spontaneously decide that she will kiss a girl, she can definitely hold another girl's hand in public.

She takes a deep breath, reaches out, and finds Marley's hand. Quinn really hopes her palm isn't sweaty from the summer heat and the crowds. But Marley's hand is warm and solid in hers (as she knew it would be, this isn't the first time she's held Marley's hand). She's nervous; it's the first time she's initiated physical contact with Marley.

Marley, of course, is beaming at her; so much so that she doesn't watch where she's going and nearly bumps into a family walking past. But throughout she holds on tightly, giving Quinn's hand a reassuring squeeze.

It's nice to hold a hand that doesn't totally engulf hers. It's not rough with calluses, or damp with sweat. It's not meaty and hard and solid. Marley's hand is soft and smooth and just the right size to fit in hers, like puzzle pieces that belong together. Quinn, feeling more confident, adjusts her grip so their fingers interlock, running her thumb down Marley's like she's been doing this forever.

Marley's smile is brighter than the summer's day.

* * *

The carnival part of Navy Pier is packed with games, but Quinn's attention is on Marley. At this stage, she's holding Marley's hand not because she wants to, but because she's afraid she'll lose Marley in the crowd (either to the throng of people, or because Marley will see something interesting and run off).

"Look!" Marley points out a particular stall.

"Spill the Milk?" Quinn reads the name of the game slowly. It's as cliche as it gets; people throwing baseballs at a stack of bottles to knock them down. She doesn't particularly care for carnival games.

"I'll win you something," Marley declares.

Quinn giggles. "What, really?"

"I never joke about this kinda thing," she says, and goes over to the stall operator. Marley hands him some money and gets three baseballs.

"You're serious." Quinn drifts over, amused.

Marley weighs the ball in her hand. "Like a heart attack. Now hush up and let me concentrate." Marley sizes up her target, closing one eye and screwing up her face as she aims. Quinn is torn between laughter and actual investment in this endeavor.

Marley winds her arm back, and lets fly. The ball sails to the left, about a foot away from the cans. Marley groans. "That was just a test throw." She glares at the bottles as though they've personally offended her, and adjusts her cap. Marley doesn't break eye contact the entire time.

Quinn is certain she'll bite through her lip with how hard she's trying not to laugh. "Do you wanna take that off? I can hold it for you," she offers.

"No, it's my lucky cap." Marley takes longer to aim, and her next ball grazes the cans on the right. She hops on the spot excitedly. "I'm getting closer!"

"You still missed."

"By a hair this time. It'll average out on the third throw."

"You're ridiculous," says Quinn fondly, by now too thoroughly charmed to pretend she isn't invested in this.

"Shh. Still concentrating."

The last ball hits the top of the bottle pyramid, knocking one off. Marley whoops excitedly when the others wobble – and stay put.

"Shoot," she says as the operator hands her a consolation prize of a neon green plastic wristband. "I almost had it."

"It's okay, it's my turn now to win you something."

Marley's head snaps to Quinn, her mouth a small 'o' of surprise. Quinn takes the wristband from Marley's slack hand and puts it on her right wrist. "For luck," she adds with a shrug.

"You're serious," says Marley, sounding awed.

"Quit stealing my lines." Quinn pays the man and takes the baseballs from him. Quinn frowns; on closer inspection, they're not heavy baseballs but much softer and lighter softballs. She's seen the boys blow weeks of allowance money on carnival games enough times to know how the game is rigged; the bottles are too heavy to use brute force to knock them off, especially with these spongy softballs, but if she can get them off balance… Not to mention the bottles are probably heavier than they look, judging from the sounds they made when Marley hit them.

But she can win this.

Her first ball misses the stack, but only just. Her second dings the lower left bottle, making the pyramid tremble – and the final ball knocks that bottle clear off the platform, making the rest tumble noisily to the ground.

"You did it!" Marley squeals, throwing her arms up, hopping up and down like a madwoman. She accepts the giant stuffed bear reverently like it's a Nationals trophy. "You're amazing. How'd you manage that in just three throws?"

"Athlete, remember?" She blushes hot when Marley kisses her cheek.

"Thank you," says Marley, eyes shining. "I'm calling him Squishy, and he will be my Squishy." She presses her cheek against the bear's soft fur, and Quinn suddenly wants to be a plush toy.

"You're quoting _Finding Nemo _at me?"

"Says the one who recognizes a _Finding Nemo _quote. Pot, kettle." Marley tucks Squishy under one arm; the other reaches for Quinn's hand and tangles their fingers together.

"It's Sam's little sister's favorite movie," Quinn defends herself. "We watched it practically every time I babysat."

"I love Disney movies too," says Marley placidly.

"Of course you do."

Marley shrugs, not at all bothered by Quinn's teasing. "I brought my laptop, we can watch something later tonight if you want."

"Sure," says Quinn, who's watched more kid movies in three years of sleepovers with Brittany (and Rachel, to a lesser degree) than in the entirety of her childhood.

"Hey, we should get a photo!"

Quinn has been very well-trained at this point in the trip. She makes herself useful suggesting good angles and interesting places they can go. They stand in front of the cheesiest thing (a large clown mural) Marley can find, and take the photo. This time, Quinn doesn't mind when Marley melts into her side like she's been doing it all her life.

"Quinn? Are you any good with guns?"

Quinn squints at the rifle range. "I know which end to point at the target," she offers, and Marley giggles like a loon.

"I guess that's a no, then. That's a pity; I thought you'd like to continue your winning streak there. You're being a very good girlfriend so far."

"You're the one from Texas. Shouldn't you have some cowboy skills?" Quinn says, trying and failing to process how casually Marley called her her _girlfriend_.

"No, I drew the short straw when they were giving out the cowboy skills. I've only got the accent and the hat."

"Oh yeah? Doesn't explain this." Quinn pokes Marley's cap, knocking it askew; she growls and ducks out of reach. "That's not a cowboy hat."

"I like this hat!" Marley exclaims indignantly, patting it back on her head securely. "It's lucky."

"Does it work?"

"Sure it does!" Marley's smile softens. "You're here with me now, aren't you?"

Quinn blushes. Before she can respond, Marley adds: "And now you've got a lucky bracelet of your own."

"Thanks to you."

Marley grins at her. "Sounds like we're off to a good start. We should go on the ferris wheel next," she says.

Quinn expression stills. "Maybe," she replies, falling back into her habit of deflecting, even though she promised herself that she wouldn't do it to Marley.

Marley seems to notice. "Hey. Everything okay?"

"I'm fine." She doesn't like ferris wheels. Or swings, or see-saws. Things that make her weight noticeable.

Quinn's mind starts to race. She can't use her usual excuse of heights, not after Cedar Point.

She's not a Lucy anymore. When Quinn woke up after her nose job, she'd promised herself a new body and face to go with that beautiful new nose. And when she was all new and beautiful, she'd have earned the new name to go with it: Quinn. Not Lucy, not Lucy Caboosey, not Lose-y. Quinn Fabray would be thin and beautiful and popular, she would be Head Cheerio and Prom Queen of McKinley High _just like Frannie_.

What she told Marley about being nervous about heights isn't a complete lie. She can't remember the last time she went on the swings because she'd been so afraid she'd break them with her weight. In elementary school, no one wanted to play on the see-saw with her, because they'd be stuck up in the air. And Quinn knows, she just _knows_, that if she goes up in one of those rickety ferris wheel cars, the entire thing would swing crazily whenever she moves. Her weight would make the rusty old chains snap, and they'd plummet to their doom.

Finn and Puck had been keen on the ferris wheel so they could make out in private. She'd been successful in deflecting them each time, but Quinn knows she can't do that to Marley; not just because Marley is Marley and actually listens to her when she talks, but it's also not fair to her.

Quinn has challenged so many of her personal rules, ventured out of her comfort zone so many times in a week, and it's all because of Marley Rose. Even if she's still not entirely happy with that, Quinn knows that Marley happening to her is a good thing, and she'd be a fool if she ran away screaming from all this.

On the other hand, Rachel would be mildly pissed. The girl has been trying to needle Quinn out of her comfort zone for almost all of high school with little success, and Marley managed it in slightly over a week.

So, she's made a decision. It's too bad that it was made alone in her head, because Quinn lacks the courage to share that decision with Marley. Forget Cedar Point and whatever high-velocity contraption Sue cooks up in her backyard; Quinn's emotions are much faster, and more nausea-inducing.

Luckily for her, Marley quickly gets distracted by the various sights and sounds, grabbing Quinn's arm excitedly as she points out a clown twisting balloon animals. Quinn pushes down her discomfort with practiced ease. "You want a donut?"

"Um, yes, but that's besides the point; there are so many other things here, and I can get donuts any ol' time, you know…" She waves her hand. "Fair food is a class of its own."

"All I got from that was that you always want donuts."

Marley laughs at her. "Yes, okay, that too. What say we grab some fair food tonight?"

Quinn's mouth twists. Up to this point in the trip, Quinn has successfully avoided drawing attention to her food habits. The ghosts of her past linger, haunting every calorie she consumes (or doesn't consume). They prompt hikes when the guilt gets too much, they pick out the healthiest options on the greasy menus. When she bought Marley the bag of apology donuts, the other girl hadn't noticed Quinn didn't eat one. Marley had ended up eating most of their Chinese food dinner. Even yesterday, after their pizza, Quinn had eaten very slowly to disguise the fact she'd only had one piece, and her mental calculations meant that the walking afterwards was sufficient to burn it off.

Quinn plasters on a smile. She can do this. The fair is too crowded, too noisy, for Marley to notice that Quinn will barely eat anything tonight. "I'm not rolling you back to the motel, though; fair warning."

"You always say that, but I bet in the unlikely event I actually do eat myself into a coma, you'll not only make sure I get back to the motel, you'll also put me to bed and tuck me in."

Quinn fights a smile. God help her, it's true.

Marley smiles. It's not a kind smile. She leans in, whispers, "Even if you insist on hiding it, you're still the most caring person I know. I really like that about you," in Quinn's ear. When she pulls back and nonchalantly starts talking about the carnival, it's all Quinn can do to focus on Marley and think clean thoughts.

Marley's eyes almost pop out of her head when they round the corner and spot a cluster of food trucks. There are tents and other stalls mixed in among these, creating the effect of a haphazard circus.

"No way," says Quinn, smelling the food before she can see it.

"Yes way," Marley says, already speeding up her walk. Quinn follows at a more reserved pace.

Marley stops in front of the first tent she finds. "Do you wanna split a triple grilled cheese with me? It comes with smoked bacon-stuffed jalapeno poppers." she asks excitedly. "No, wait, those burritos smell amazing. Hold that thought."

Quinn smiles nervously. It all smelled wonderful, and it was difficult to resist. Bacon, for one, was still a weakness; she'd craved it nonstop when pregnant with Beth, and she was fond of it even now. Of course, Quinn makes up for it with a good long workout afterwards whenever she eats it.

"You know what we should do?" says Quinn.

"I'm afraid to ask what, when Quinn Fabray starts suggesting activities," replies Marley. She deliberately adopts the deadpan delivery Quinn does when she's being annoying, and – judging from the glance she shoots at Quinn – she knows that Quinn knows it.

Quinn makes a face at her; Marley responds with fake innocence.

"We should buy a drink," says Quinn, and starts grinning when she catches the look on Marley's face, "... a non-alcoholic one of course, and go down to Ohio Street Beach to watch the fireworks."

Slowly, a smile spreads over Marley's face. "That is a seriously good idea, and thank goodness, it's so much better than what I thought you'd say. I saw you looking at the beer park when we walked by, Quinn Fabray."

"I ask you, what is the point of having these convincing fake IDs if we don't get to use them?"

"I hope that was a rhetorical question."

"It wasn't?"

"Now it is, because I'm not answering that."

Quinn laughs. "Okay, no beer. What about ice cream?"

"Yes! Maybe I'll finally get to try raspberry ripple." Much to Quinn's relief, Marley turns away from the greasy stall, searching for one that sells ice cream. "Ooh, they have fries. We should get fries to dip in the ice cream."

"Gross."

"It is _not _gross, do not knock it until you've tried it." Marley squints at something, before her eyes go wide. "Holy Hannah, Quinn, look at that: it's an ice cream fried chicken sandwich, topped with rice Krispies, and – is that powdered _sugar_? And _hot sauce_?"

"I'm gonna stop you there," says Quinn uncomfortably. Just picturing the cursed combination of foods that don't belong together effectively kills Quinn's appetite.

"Yeah, even I'm getting second thoughts about food in general. Oooh, funnel cake."

"Pass."

"Deep-fried butter?"

"You're joking, right?"

"Okay, triple cheeseburger donut. With bacon and maple syrup."

Quinn shoots Marley a disgusted look. "You're walking back to Lima."

"Oh please, this place hasn't got a patch on what they used to serve up at the fairs in Wichita Falls. We had cotton candy tacos, for crying out loud." Marley spots a sign. "Ooh, deep-fried pizza on a stick."

"That would explain your… cavalier attitude towards food." Quinn casts about for something to distract Marley from her apparent determination to put Quinn off food forever. "Why don't you go buy your food, I'll go buy mine, and we'll meet back here?"

Marley glances at her. "Don't. I'm sorry, I'll stop teasing you."

"It's not that," Quinn insists, trying not to melt when faced with Marley's puppy-dog expression. "It's really crowded, and we'll be out of here faster if we split up. I think we'll have a better chance of getting a good spot for the fireworks if we get there early."

"Yeah, you have a point," Marley reluctantly concedes. "I'll meet you back here then?"

"Okay."

Quinn deliberately walks as far from Marley as possible, ducking behind a tent selling the most calorie-dense milkshakes she has ever seen. She has little chance of finding anything to eat that's not deep-fried or laden with a phone number's worth of calories, so Quinn isn't going to try. At least all the other places they went had acceptable options.

* * *

They make the mistake of being too late to get a good spot on the beach, so they end up sitting in a grassy patch in the nearby park. For all her enthusiasm, Marley only has three paper bags.

"I thought you'd have bought out the whole place," says Quinn dryly. "I can picture you walking over with a trailer in tow."

"Ha ha. Funnily enough, I exercised some restraint at the last minute." She arranges her bags around her. "You know, us not being able to find a spot on the beach turned out to be a good thing," quips Marley. "Imagine the sand getting _everywhere_."

"Ugh." Quinn vaguely remembers a family holiday to Reno Beach, and the amount of sand she'd managed to collect in her swimsuit.

"But grass has bugs."

"Between sand and bugs, I think I'll take my chances with the bugs."

Marley makes a face. "Seconded." She stretches out her legs. "Here," she says, holding out one of her paper bags to Quinn.

"What? That's not mine, I already ate mine while I was waiting for you," Quinn lies.

"It's a quinoa and avocado salad, I got this for you."

"Seriously? A salad? And it's not deep-fried?" She unfolds the top of the paper bag with trembling fingers, peeking inside just to make sure Marley isn't pulling her leg. There's a plastic container, with a smaller tub on top holding what looks like sauce; iit really is an honest-to-goodness salad. It looks like one Quinn might've made for herself at home.

"Nope." Marley grimaces. "I know, I'm just as stunned as you. Turns out there is at least one stall which actually sells healthy food. It's pretty well-hidden, though. Guess people don't come to fairs for salads… which, come to think of it, would explain why the poor man behind the counter looked so happy when I ordered it."

Quinn's mouth twists up, as does her stomach. "I… how long did it take you to find this?"

"Not long at all," replies Marley brightly. Which Quinn doesn't trust. That pretty face, she's come to find, hides a devious mind Santana would've been proud of.

"You didn't have to," mumbles Quinn, "I already ate."

"I know, but I wanted to do something for you," says Marley patiently. "It's just salad, but there's plenty of grains in it so you won't feel hungry," she points out, "because I'm pretty sure you didn't eat anything back there."

"... How?"

Marley's smile is a little sad. "Brittany told me a lot more about Cheerios than just what you guys do in training. And it's impossible not to notice that you don't really eat when we literally spend days together."

"You noticed?"

"I notice everything about you," says Marley simply.

Quinn chews on her lower lip. Again, she finds herself at a loss for words around Marley because all her walls are down. It's not a good feeling. "Marley…"

"You don't have to explain. I'm not doing this to embarrass you, or call you out. Quinn, I… I just want to be here for you." She nods at the paper bag. "And I want you to be okay with that. I don't want you to feel like you have to hide stuff from me."

Tears prick at her eyes. Quinn doesn't notice until the lines of the bag and her hands start to blur together, and a spot appears on the paper, coloring it darker.

Then she feels a warm hand on her cheek, and fingers on her chin, guiding her to look up.

Marley's smiling. Marley's always smiling, and now Quinn can tell them apart. There's Marley's happy smile when she's excited, her amused smile when she sees something funny. There's a smile she reserves for food, one for cute animals and babies. There's a pinched smile for when Quinn is being exasperating, another for when she is not.

This one is sad. Her expressive blue eyes catch the fading light, as does the glassy sheen of unshed tears. She is being understanding, so understanding and accepting of everything Quinn Fabray that it physically hurts.

Marley's thumb strokes Quinn's cheek; Quinn opens her mouth, then closes it. Words fail her, and so, Quinn doesn't use them. Slowly, slowly, she exhales a shaky breath, and she rests her forehead against Marley's.

Marley wraps her up in a hug. A kiss is pressed to the side of Quinn's head; Quinn's eyes flutter shut. She feels safe. She feels clean, like everything that is wrong about her has been washed away.

A distant boom interrupts her thoughts. "Look," says a quiet voice in her ear.

Quinn turns her head. She takes the opportunity to dab her eyes with the back of her hand, and looks at the sky; the fireworks display has begun.

Several more booms follow in quick succession, and colors paint the sky. Red streaks, blue streaks. Yellow bursts of light linger briefly after the other two have faded away, until all that's left are smoky ghosts.

Quinn watches all this with rapt attention. She doesn't stiffen when a hand unexpectedly comes to rest on the small of her back; instead, she welcomes the contact, even shifts so she can rest her head on Marley's shoulder. Quinn smiles when the hand curls protectively around her waist.

* * *

They don't leave immediately after the fireworks display ends. For one, Marley insists Quinn eat her salad "before it wilts". But Quinn is certain the main reason for the delay is the kiss Marley initiates afterwards (and Quinn reciprocates).

Vaguely, she remembers something about PDA and making out in parks from this morning but right now, she couldn't care less. And judging from the smug smile Marley wears (not to mention her mussed hair and smeared lipgloss), she doesn't care either.

The pier is winding down when they arrive back, hand-in-hand. The ferris wheel is still spinning, its glittering lights the main source of illumination now the fireworks are done.

Quinn sees, and she remembers.

"Marley?"

"Hmm?"

"About earlier, when I didn't want to go on the ferris wheel."

Marley turns to her, fully alert. "Yeah?"

"I'm not comfortable with ferris wheels for the same reason I don't like swings. I… used to be fat."

Marley frowns, clearly not understanding, but she doesn't say anything, simply waits for Quinn to continue. "I, uhm, I'm still really self-conscious about my weight. It's really irrational, but if I'm up in the ferris wheel all I can think of is _what if my weight makes the car fall_." She blushes deeply.

"...oh. Oh, Quinn."

She's used to suffering in silence. There's something freeing about confessing, and even more so that she's not getting the extreme reaction she feared. But the longer the words stay out of her mouth, the bolder Quinn feels.

Marley's hands find hers and grip tightly, her thumbs rubbing the backs of Quinn's hands. The intimate gesture in such a crowded place gives Quinn pause.

"Thank you for telling me that," Marley says, very seriously. It's not something comes naturally to her, but Quinn wouldn't dream of laughing. "That can't be… fuck, I don't ever think I'd be able to say that out loud if it was me. I think I'd just keep it all inside until something bad happened."

"You said fuck."

"I'm allowed to use big girl words when the occasion calls for it," Marley replies, mouth quirking upwards.

Quinn nods. "Duly noted."

Then Marley is asking if she's "gotten help" and Quinn bristles. "What do you mean?"

"Spoken to a professional about it."

"No, and I don't intend to." This is still a sore spot between her and Rachel; Quinn doesn't have a good impression of therapy in general; after she'd given up Beth, Judy had signed her up for therapy. Quinn, unimpressed by the therapist and her insistence on talking about feelings, had attended two sessions and skipped the rest.

Rachel, on the other hand, has a private therapist with whom she started sessions with at five, because she was having stage fright, and she wasn't supposed to let that interfere with her Broadway dreams. She still met with the woman every fortnight to exhaustively psychoanalyze her life in excruciating detail, an alien concept to Quinn. "I don't need therapy."

Marley studies her intently. "If you say so," she says after a good long pause. "But I'd like it if you kept that in mind. I think it would help a lot."

Quinn presses her lips together. She won't let someone who barely knows her judge her, but she won't lie to Marley. Thankfully, Marley accepts that answer with a shrug and a resigned smile.

"Come on," says Marley, releasing one of Quinn's hands so she can tow Quinn along, "we should get back, we've got a long drive tomorrow."

Quinn resists. "We can, if you want."

"Want what?" She follows Quinn's gaze to the ferris wheel. "... You're sure?"

"You make me feel like I can do anything, especially the things that scare me," Quinn admits. "I want to feel like this for as long as I can."

Marley pays for their tickets. It seems like the right thing to do. Quinn clambers into the cramped cabin, sitting in the middle of the wooden bench, Marley squeezing right next to her. Squishy goes on the bench opposite them and is promptly forgotten.

The man shuts the door behind them; Quinn flinches at the sound. Marley's hand grips her knee.

When the cabin starts to move, Quinn's breathing starts to speed up. She focuses on the hand on her knee.

"You're okay," says Marley. Some hair has fallen out of Quinn's braid and into her eyes; fingers tease it up and away. "Do you wanna look outside?"

Quinn wants to, and so she does. She sees Chicago, the same view as it has been over the past three days, but different. The skyline has not changed, only her perspective has. It is alive. She is alive.

"It's beautiful."

"Yeah," says Marley, who isn't looking outside, "it is."

Quinn shifts in her seat nervously. The cabin rocks, but Marley's hand continues to ground her. She calms.

Marley stays quiet as they slowly descend. But as the cabin passes the low point of the wheel, Marley sits up straighter. "We're going up," she says.

Quinn watches the lights of Navy Pier glow, and then fall away as the cabin continues to rise. The city glitters again. She feels invincible, and so she moves to kiss Marley softly.

Marley kisses back eagerly. Quinn can't help but smile when the hand on her knee loosens its grip as Marley's attention drifts elsewhere.

Her hands are unoccupied, so Quinn puts them to good use; they meet at the back of Marley's neck. She visibly shivers when Quinn's bracelet grazes her skin, tickling the fine hairs of her neck.

When Quinn moves closer, she bumps the brim of the hat Marley is still wearing. "You and that ridiculous hat," Quinn murmurs. She slips it off Marley's head and kisses her again.

"It's a lucky hat, and you like it too."

"I like it better when you're not wearing it." Quinn twists Marley's hair around her fingers and tugs. Marley whimpers. She shifts in her seat, trying to get closer to Quinn short of actually climbing into her lap. Her free hand holds onto Quinn's waist, finger hooking the belt loop of her jeans, a compromise.

The cabin bumps; Quinn breaks the kiss, startled. "We've stopped," she says, looking out the window.

Marley laughs self-consciously. "We have, in more ways than one. Though I'm glad you stopped when you did; I think I'd die of embarrassment if the attendant had to interrupt us."

A nervous giggle bursts out of Quinn. She picks up Marley's cap and thrusts it at her; Marley jams it back on her head, scooping up Squishy as she goes.

"C'mon, let's get back." Adrenaline runs hot in her blood. Quinn is still running off the high of accomplishment. "Long drive tomorrow."

* * *

Marley's sprawled on the bed, talking eagerly to someone who can only be her mom.

Quinn grimaces involuntarily. She hasn't spoken to her mom since embarking on this trip; as a matter of fact, the last time she saw her was two days before she left Lima. Judy was going out to Minnesota to visit Frannie, and she never looked back.

But she doesn't care. In a couple of months, it'll be her turn to go, and she won't be coming back. Quinn puts her earbuds in to give Marley some privacy. No more Damien Rice and his pining for her; she puts on The Supremes.

Marley puts a hand over her phone. "Mom says hi," she says.

"Hi, Mrs Rose," replies Quinn politely, raising her eyebrows. It appears that Marley has never heard of the mute button, and Quinn finds the entire thing too endearing to tell her.

Marley beams at her, then goes back to talking on the phone.

Quinn's attention returns to her own phone, and the messages Santana has sent; there are a few that are halfway civil, and Quinn is impressed by how much Santana genuinely misses her.

Marley, who has finished her nightly calls by this time, comes over to curl into Quinn's side. "What do you think of this?"

Quinn squints at the phone Marley's holding out to her; it's the photo she took earlier, of the pier at night. "It's nice," she says, genuinely impressed. She'd waited while Marley fussed with the phone camera's settings and set up the shot, but she hadn't seen the results until now. "You're pretty good at taking photos."

Marley, delighted, drops an impulsive kiss on Quinn's temple. It's close enough to Quinn's ear to send goosebumps prickling over her skin. "You're sweet," replies Marley, and starts toying with Instagram's filters, squinting at each one.

"Aaaand posted." Marley ducks under Quinn's arm; she smiles and tugs on the neon green bracelet around her wrist. "Hey, you're still wearing it."

"Yeah." Quinn intends to wear it for the entire summer, though she doesn't tell Marley that.

Marley lifts Quinn's hand to her lips, and kisses the skin of her wrist, just above her pulse. "It looks good on you. I'm glad you like it," she says.

Quinn can only nod. It's impossible to take her eyes off Marley.

It seems that Marley knows what's on Quinn's mind, because her smile turns wicked, and she surges up to kiss Quinn – stopping short just before making contact.

Quinn whines.

"You're still wearing your glasses," points out Marley very matter-of-factly.

She whips them off and drops them on the side table. "They're gone," says Quinn, and kisses Marley. She doesn't stop there this time, still feeling the rush of the day. Quinn breaks the kiss earlier than normal; Marley makes a sound in protest, and tries to reconnect their lips. She stops moving when Quinn starts pressing little butterfly kisses on the side of her mouth, straying gradually downwards.

Quinn's hand comes to rest on Marley's shoulder. Her thumb rubs over the shirt she's wearing, following the press of her collarbone.

Marley parts her lips. "_Oh_," she sighs, the sound breathy, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips.

Quinn likes that response. She wants more. She bends her head to kiss the underside of Marley's jaw, running her tongue over the smooth skin teasingly; Marley's hands tangle themselves in Quinn's loose ponytail.

Her other hand winds itself through Marley's hair. She loves it when people play with her hair, and Quinn has a feeling Marley will too. Quinn's fingernails scratch lightly over Marley's scalp – but in a flash she twists Marley's hair around her fingers and pulls. Marley cries out, her back arching; yet she still leans into Quinn's touch, tilting her head to expose more skin.

Quinn's smile turns predatory. She takes the hint, licking down Marley's neck, pausing briefly to inhale the scent of her skin, before sucking hard on the spot where her neck meets her shoulder.

"Quinn." Her name sounds like it's composed of air, bound together with desire. "Don't stop."

Quinn has no intention of doing so. She briefly digs her teeth into Marley's skin, soothing the spot with her tongue moments later. Slowly, she works her way back up Marley's neck, alternating kisses with her tongue.

She's still not yet at Marley's mouth when the other girl loses her patience. Marley connects their lips with enough force that their teeth clack together, but then she tilts her head so they're kissing properly. Her tongue slips into Quinn's mouth; Quinn moans at her fervor.

It's Marley's turn to seduce now. She sucks on Quinn's tongue, then nips at Quinn's lower lip. Marley learns fast; her kisses are now mixed with small jolts of pain, delivered with her teeth, which Quinn enjoys immensely.

Marley descends on Quinn's neck, dragging her teeth down. Quinn exhales sharply. She tugs on Marley's hair, guiding her to where she wants her, while her other hand splays itself on Marley's lower back.

Marley is taking her own sweet time amusing herself with Quinn's neck; it drives her crazy. Quinn's body thrums in a way she never thought it could; she feels like a mess of hormones given focus by how much she wants this girl in her arms. And Quinn doesn't stop at just _more_, greedy as it is, she wants everything she can get.

The hand on Marley's back shifts and finds warm, smooth skin. Quinn lightly scratches at it, and Marley immediately stumbles over the patch of skin on Quinn's neck she is currently kissing. Quinn likes that the balance of power has shifted back into her favor, and continues rubbing her hand back and forth over Marley's back.

Marley's left hand, which was supporting Quinn's head up to this point, tightens. "You're so…" she starts, and doesn't finish.

"Frustrating?" Quinn pants, thoroughly undone by the way Marley's tongue laves over the dip between her collarbones.

"Beautiful," replies Marley. Her fingers hook in the collar of Quinn's T-shirt, pulling it out of her way so she can trace Quinn's collarbone directly.

Quinn's breathing hitches. She pulls on Marley, who comes willingly into Quinn's lap. The hand she has in Marley's hair grips the back of Marley's neck, simultaneously controlling her attentions and holding on for dear life. "Yes," she gasps, "_more_."

Then Quinn's phone rings. Marley yelps in surprise; Quinn curses and starts searching for it. Both their phones were forgotten in the heat of the moment, so it takes a while of hunting through the sheets before Quinn finds it.

"What?" she barks into the phone.

"Suzy Q," a familiar voice greets her. "Berry was right; you _are _testy when being interrupted on your dream vacation."

"Santana, why are you calling me?" Marley takes advantage of the break to flop down and bury her face in the front of Quinn's shirt; it's occupying most of Quinn's attention at the moment.

Santana's voice turns syrupy-sweet. "Well, I was surprised and overjoyed to hear back from my best friend _ever_, after all the texts I've been sending her. It's nice to know you really missed me too, Q-bert."

Quinn sighs. She's missed Santana too, but she also misses Marley's mouth on hers, and she knows which one she wants more. "Sorry. I've been busy. I'm glad you called, though."

"Yeah? Then why do you sound like you – oh. Oh _hell_ nah," says Santana, and cackles loudly. "I interrupted you gettin' your mack on! Wow, Q, get some!"

"Lopez, I _fucking_ swear to God…"

"Shit, I would never have pegged Lunchlady Jr for being as sapphic as you. She's hot, though; bet she's wild as all get out in the sack."

"It's nothing like that, shut up, you bitch," Quinn insists, face flushed. She knows Marley's looking at her with concern, but she's focused on Santana and her horribly _correct_ assumptions. "I'm hanging up now. Fuck off."

"Yeah, yeah. I'mma do you a solid, be a good lesbro, all that jazz, and let you get on with it. I expect deets when you get back." With a last cackle, the line goes dead.

Quinn lets out a growl of frustration; she grabs a pillow and buries her face in it, screaming into the cool material.

When she finally lets the pillow drop so she can breathe, the first thing she sees is Marley, propped up on her elbows, watching her. The expression she's wearing is a curious mix of amusement and concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she says. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"I take it that you weren't expecting Santana to call," Marley observes. She smooths hair away from Quinn's face, where it clings to her flushed skin. "And somehow she knows about us."

Quinn groans. "She's a pervert. She'd have come to the same conclusion even if we hadn't been… you know."

"Yeah, I figured." Marley clearly deems it safe to resume cuddling; she tucks her head under Quinn's chin, one arm wrapping around Quinn's waist and pulling her close. "Are you okay?"

"You already asked me that," Quinn grouches, but rolls to lie on her side, facing Marley; she loops her arm around Marley's shoulders loosely. "I'm fine."

"Okay," replies Marley, sounding unbothered.

"I'm just, maybe a little annoyed that she interrupted and ruined everything. _And_ she guessed what we were doing." Quinn huffs. "As though I'm this open book. Most of the time she isn't right, but she still acts like she's _always _right; because every once in a long while she _is_ right and she'll _never_ let you forget it. She's like a bulldog sometimes, it's so _fucking _annoying."

"Okay," Marley repeats. Her eyebrows disappear into her fringe when Quinn swears, but goes on rubbing Quinn's upper arm.

Whatever Marley is doing with her hand, it's working. Quinn gets progressively less irritated, and more relaxed. "I don't wanna talk about Santana anymore," she says, scooting lower so she can bury her face in Marley's neck.

Marley hums. Her hand finds the nape of Quinn's neck and continues rubbing.

Quinn actually does purr, then, when Marley's fingernails scratch lightly over her scalp. "If you keep doing that, I'll fall asleep," she warns.

"Isn't that the whole point?" replies Marley.

"Don't sass me," Quinn scolds, but the words are sleepy and thick on her tongue.

Marley laughs at her. "We have a long drive tomorrow."

And yet Quinn would protest, but a feather-light kiss dropped on her forehead stills her. "Good night," says Quinn instead, admitting defeat.

"Good night, Quinn."


	9. Indianapolis, Indiana

**Author's Notes: **Brought to you by **_Mike Ownby_ **and his invaluable beta + Americanization work. He's also made the cover image for this fic!

This fic now has extended author's notes and meta thoughts on my Tumblr, _**yumi-michiyo**_.

* * *

This morning differs from the rest in that there's a still-warm empty spot in the bed beside Quinn, and there's singing coming from the bathroom.

Quinn doesn't mind. Even though she's getting used to not having her walls up, she does relish her personal space now and then. Although, as far as Marley is concerned, personal space is starting to feel overrated.

She frowns when she notices that her phone screen is full of messages, nearly all of them from Santana (thankfully not the Glee club group chat, she wouldn't be able to show her face there again). It appears that Santana has been busy in her absence.

Quinn jumps when her phone goes off in her hand; she reflexively hits the answer button without checking caller ID. "Hello!"

"Quinn, I can't believe you!"

Quinn sighs. "Hi, Rachel."

There's a pause as Rachel struggles – rather audibly, much to Quinn's amusement – between her manners and her indignation. "Hello, Quinn," she says eventually. "Are you and Marley dating?"

"Wow, direct much?"

Rachel huffs. "Considering that I have to find out that you and Marley are together from _Santana_, yes. I would have understood if you chose to keep such news of momentous importance from me, given our complicated history, but you thought it was okay to tell Santana?"

"I didn't tell Santana, she jumped to conclusions," says Quinn sulkily.

"But was she right?" Rachel presses.

Quinn doesn't say anything. Her silence speaks volumes.

Rachel suddenly lets out a squeal. "I am so happy for you, Quinn!"

"Thanks, Rach." It is far too early for Rachel Berry antics, but Quinn's missed her insane best friend, and it's difficult not to be touched by Rachel's happiness on her behalf.

"She is _so _adorable! You have no idea how excited I am for the both of you! I want all the details when you get home," Rachel orders.

"I think I have _some _idea," says Quinn dryly. "And yeah, no." She can picture it; all the girls gathered on her bed, listening to a blow-by-blow account, the feminine version of an accounting of a football game. "Santana's going to be a pain." She glances down at the unread messages. "She already is."

"Don't worry, Quinn. If she's too overbearing, Brittany and I will take care of her. We have proven to be quite the effective team."

"That's what I'm afraid of," says Quinn, smiling in spite of herself. "Look, Rach, I have to go."

"Of course! Have fun, Quinn! Tell Marley I said hi."

When Quinn terminates the call, Marley is already out of the bathroom. "All yours," she says. She has her hair in a partial updo today, a loose ponytail flowing back into her long brown hair.

"No hat today?" Quinn asks, her eyes following Marley as she moves around the room.

"Not today. Why? Do you wanna borrow it?" She visibly perks up at the idea.

Quinn snorts. "No thanks."

Marley tugs playfully on the green bracelet Quinn is wearing. "I'll convert you yet."

Quinn laughs outright. "You can try."

Marley just pouts at her, which – _wow_ – for the sake of Quinn's sanity, she needs to stop doing that. Quinn has the sneaking suspicion that Marley knows how much it affects Quinn, given how she keeps on doing it.

But then she stops pouting to come closer and peck Quinn's cheek, pulling away with a smug smile. Too late, Quinn remembers that she doesn't need to hide what she feels for Marley anymore.

Pretending not to be affected, Quinn shakes her head and gathers her things, heading into the bathroom.

"Quinn? Hang on a sec, would you?"

"Yeah?"

"So," Marley begins… and doesn't continue.

One of Quinn's eyebrows slowly rises as she waits patiently. When the pause drags on too long for it to still be considered as such, she prompts Marley gently with a: "So…?"

"I was wondering if you – I know we planned an itinerary and everything, but…" Marley trails off.

Quinn's attention falls on the telltale redness creeping up Marley's neck. "Yes?" She does her best not to sound too teasing.

"IwaswonderingifIcouldtakeyououtonadateinstead."

"...what? I'm sorry, I don't speak Garblish," Quinn teases her.

"I was wondering if you could take you out on a date instead today," Marley repeats, this time at a normal pace. She clasps her hands together in front of her.

"When?" Quinn asks – _gently_, in the face of Marley's abject embarrassment. "We're already out, in case you haven't noticed, not to mention we'll be driving the entire day…"

"We're spending the night in Louisville, right? So from now until then." Marley's lower lip juts out in a stubborn pout Quinn recognizes. "I'll drive. You can just relax and let me take care of everything today."

She can't say she'd much rather follow the itinerary they'd painstakingly planned. Quinn has never been spontaneous before, but every part of her is urging her to listen to this crazy, beautiful girl with a smile that makes the world seem brighter, especially when she's trying to ask Quinn out.

"Yeah, okay," she finds herself saying.

"Great!" Marley bounces a little, grinning like a maniac. "Now go get dressed."

"I was going to," retorts Quinn, "until someone asked me out."

* * *

She's halfway through doing her hair when there's a knock at the door that causes Quinn to jump.

"Quinn? Are you decent?"

"Yes," she replies automatically, too surprised to ask why.

Marley comes in. "Hi," she says, wrapping her arms around Quinn's waist from behind. "You look very pretty today."

Quinn looks at herself in the mirror; her eyes travel upwards from her white skirt, to her chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow and the top buttons undone, and finally to Marley and her smile, standing behind her, chin resting on Quinn's shoulder. "I'm wearing a skirt and a shirt."

"And you look very pretty in those," replies Marley. "But I'm gonna have to ask you to change."

"... what? There's a dress code for today? Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

Marley looks sheepish. She doesn't meet Quinn's eyes. "I would've said so earlier, but I wasn't expecting you to say yes to me, so while you were in here getting ready I was frantically Googling stuff we can do today."

Quinn squints at her. "If you say we're going off-road biking, I will smother you with a pillow."

"We're not, but that honestly sounds fun. I mean," Marley says hastily on catching the look on Quinn's face, "wear jeans, if you have them."

Quinn sighs, mildly exasperated, yet intrigued. "This better be worth it, Rose," she warns lightly, going to retrieve the pair of black jeans she packed.

"I'm counting on it," says Marley. "I'm too young to die."

When Quinn re-emerges from the bathroom, she does a little twirl for Marley's benefit, and gets a giggle. "Is this acceptable, Miss Rose?"

"Very much so, Miss Fabray. You should've worn your glasses out today, they match your outfit."

Quinn squints at her. "Match this? I'm not a librarian."

"You could be," says Marley, "I know I'd check you out." She grins and points a finger gun at Quinn, who groans.

"It's a good thing you're going into business and not comedy," Quinn grumbles.

* * *

Instead of taking the direct route to Louisville, Marley follows the scenic backroads. "You can't sing on an interstate highway with all the trucks belching exhaust," says Marley.

"Yes, because when I see a highway, my first instinct is to roll down the window and sing," quips Quinn.

"I'm being serious, Fabray!"

"So am I! Seriously, what universe do you live in where cars are for karaoke? Are you related to Rachel somehow?"

Marley shoots her a look. "And I ask you, what of it if they were?"

The early morning sun glints through the windows; Marley pulls out a pair of sunglasses and slides them on her face. "I'm starving."

"I'm surprised it took you this long to say so."

"I was distracted."

Quinn looks away, fighting a smile. "Really? By what? Choosing country roads to sing on?"

"You're not funny. This is all part of the plan, because we're stopping at the next town to get breakfast."

* * *

The next town happens to be Lafayette, which Quinn recognizes immediately. "This is where Purdue is," she says.

"Purdue?"

"College."

Marley shakes her head. "Did you go through the entire list of college rankings?"

"No," says Quinn hotly.

"Mmhmm."

"... Okay, maybe one or two lists."

Marley nods. "That sounds more like you."

"Well, how'd you pick where to go for college?" Quinn asks defensively.

"I shortlisted schools in and around New York and Los Angeles, 'cause that's where the internships and jobs are. I had a couple schools accept me but only Marymount, CUNY, and NYU offered me full scholarships too, so I picked the one I'd actually heard of before I started college-hunting," says Marley immediately.

"Oh."

"I was going to ask how _you_ picked _your_ college shortlist, but you're going to Yale." Marley whistles. "You must've started at the very top of the rankings and worked your way down. I imagine an Ivy League school must be pretty pricey, but I'm sure the education you get out of that is worth it."

"I was offered a grant, but that's nowhere near a full ride," says Quinn bitterly. "My mom still couldn't afford it. I had to ask my dad for help."

Marley rubs Quinn's arm sympathetically.

"She had to twist his arm a little, but he finally agreed to cover the rest of my tuition for my freshman year, at least. I'll need to get a job in case he changes his mind next year." Quinn scoffs at the memory. "Frannie barely scraped together the grades for OSU. He paid for her without blinking, _and _bought her a new car as a reward for getting into college."

"I'm sorry," says Marley.

Quinn purses her mouth. "I'm mostly over it," she says, drawing a surprised laugh from Marley. "I mean – my problems are pretty small compared to yours."

Marley shrugs. "I don't think we can fairly compare our problems. Like, being broke isn't on the same scale as getting pregnant."

"Touche."

The eatery they're standing outside of looks pretty upscale, unlike Marley's usual greasy spoon picks. "This looks a little pricey," Quinn comments.

"Google said it was nice."

"And we should trust Google," says Quinn with mock-seriousness. Marley swats her arm. "No, seriously; why here?"

Marley gets shifty-eyed. "They have a really good selection of food."

Quinn gives the menu a glance. "You mean, pricey vegetarian food."

"We've been eating a lot of unhealthy food on this trip," says Marley defensively. "We could do with a few healthy meals."

"This place isn't cheap, Marley."

Marley shrugs. "I should be eating healthier anyway. My mom's been talking about losing some weight; it'll be good to pick up a few ideas for dishes I could teach her."

She's touched. She's never had anyone go out of their way to accommodate her (except Rachel, who doesn't really count because she's Rachel). "Thank you," she says.

"Oh, don't thank me. Today's all about you, so it makes sense we have something you like."

* * *

After having been squinting out the window for the past ten minutes, Quinn realizes why the place seems familiar. "Why are we here?"

"Huh? Do _you _know where we are?"

"Yep. _Carmel_."

Marley glances at Quinn. "I'm sensing a story."

Quinn laughs. "There's not much to tell. Carmel High is where Vocal Adrenaline is. We came over here once to spy on their rehearsal."

"Oh. Ohhhh." Marley wrinkles her nose. "You did?"

"They had quite the reputation," says Quinn lightly. "We stole their choreographer – it didn't help." To this day, she'll never admit that the highlight of that episode had been Rachel losing her temper in spectacular fashion.

Marley surprises her by laughing uproariously.

"What? What's so funny?"

"Did we tell you?" She frowns, and mutters inaudibly to herself.

"Tell me what?"

"Well, we… we kinda pranked Jesse St James at Nationals a couple of months back."

Quinn gapes at her. "You what? We _who_?"

Marley shakes her head, still laughing. She wheezes a little as she tries to catch her breath. "Tina and Artie told me about the whole egging thing that happened to Rachel, and how they got back at Vocal Adrenaline by singing at them."

Quinn snorts at the memory. She'd had plenty of better ideas for revenge than just _singing at them_, but she was pregnant, and there'd been more pressing things on her mind. "Not one of Mr Schue's finest moments."

"I know, right? It's already a crime that he thinks _La La Land _is the gold standard for jazz." Marley makes a face. "Anyway, back on topic: being seniors and all, we thought it was the perfect time to prank him back."

"Two years afterwards?"

"Revenge is a dish best served cold, right? He _definitely_ wouldn't have been expecting that."

Quinn presses her lips together to stop herself from laughing. "Who was in on it, and why am I only hearing about this now?"

"Not everyone," says Marley. "Rachel wasn't, for obvious reasons, 'cause Puck said she'd probably try and warn him."

"Yeah," Quinn sighs, "she's dumb like that."

"We didn't tell you too because Santana said not to. Just Puck, Santana, Tina, Artie, Mike, Jake, Kitty, Ryder, and me," Marley says, frowning as she counts off on her fingers.

Quinn sizes Marley up thoughtfully. "I'm looking at you in a whole new light, Rose," she says at length. "I never figured you for the vengeful scheming type."

"That's because I wasn't in on it from the beginning. I ran into Puck and Santana when they were sneaking out of the hotel," replies Marley matter-of-factly. "They told me the whole plan on the condition I kept their secret but I insisted on tagging along. That's why Ryder got mixed up in it too; he went along 'cause he was worried about me."

The revelation throws an additional twist into Quinn's image of Marley. "What? Why?"

"Because that's what Glee club is about," she says simply. "We're there for each other."

"What did you do to the poor man?" Since Puck and Santana are a deadly combination, Quinn is certain Jesse is mentally scarred for life.

"We lured him into the parking garage, then we threw him into a dumpster and pelted him with trash," says Marley with obvious relish. "We let him stay there for an hour before giving security an anonymous tip to find him."

"That seems rather mild, considering the people who are involved."

"Puck and Santana did something else, but they wouldn't tell us what they did."

That sparks a memory of Puck and Santana being unable to look at each other without dissolving into hysterical giggles before their performance, which in turn brings back a memory of Jesse going bone-white upon spotting the New Directions.

She'd been irritated with them at the time, but Marley's revelation explained everything. Quinn makes a mental note to torture the information out of Santana later, before murdering her for keeping her in the dark. "I can't believe this. Puck and Santana would definitely pull off a stunt like this, but Tina and Artie? _Mike_?"

"I was surprised too. But they were really enthusiastic about it. I mean, the whole thing was Tina's idea in the first place."

Quinn holds up a hand. "Okay, I'm gonna stop you there before you drop any more bombshells on me." Her friends have a _lot _of explaining to do when she gets back to Lima, but mostly she just wants to give them a hug. "I'd never have expected Tina to be capable of such a thing."

"She looks innocent, but she's quite the criminal mastermind," jokes Marley.

Quinn snorts. "Seriously, though, evil plans aside; why are we in Carmel? Are we spying on Vocal Adrenaline? Is this part of the amazing day you planned?"

"Two words, Quinn: ice skating rink."

"That's three words."

Marley waves her off. "Do you know how to skate?"

Quinn shrugs. "I guess so." She doesn't mention she took lessons as a child. "Do _you _know how to skate?"

"No." Marley pulls into the parking lot, kills the engine, and smiles her most winning smile at Quinn.

Quinn blinks at her. "... You don't know how to skate, but you want us to go to an ice skating rink?"

Marley is undeterred. "No better time to learn, right?"

"If you say so," replies Quinn, shrugging a shoulder at her. Although made apprehensive by Marley's logic, she finds herself in the unique position, for once, of not being at a disadvantage.

"I mean, Vocal Adrenaline aside, this town isn't that bad if they have an ice rink," offers Marley. She is bouncing with excitement the entire time, as they go inside. The teenage boy manning the skate rentals (who straightens up and smooths down his hair when they walk in) is exceptionally helpful, offering to come out of the booth to help them lace up their skates.

"We'll be fine, thank you," says Quinn in her best Head Cheerio voice that has him hastily excusing himself.

Marley chuckles at her. "Are you jealous?"

"He looked sleazy," Quinn protests.

"Whatever you say," replies Marley. She undoes her hair, shaking it out, and reties her hair into a neat ponytail. "You're gonna teach me to skate, right?"

"I suppose I'll have to. Wouldn't want you to fall flat on your face and break your nose or something."

"You say the sweetest things," says Marley wryly. She stands up gingerly, wobbling a little as she gets used to balancing on skates. "Okay, I'm ready. Lead the way."

They make their way towards the ice. Despite the floor being lined with rubber mats, Marley almost slips on a slush puddle and has to grab onto Quinn's arm to stop herself from falling. "I'm okay! I'm fine!"

Quinn shakes her head. "We haven't even gotten on the actual ice yet, Rose; I'm concerned."

"Think of it as me getting the falling out of my system," says Marley breathlessly. She's practically hugging Quinn's arm now.

"Marley, you need to let go of me or we'll both fall." Quinn pauses in the doorway, gently prying Marley's fingers off her arm. "Can you grab onto the wall for now? Give me a sec to get on the ice." She steps on the ice, turns to face Marley, and holds out her hands.

Immediately, Marley grabs onto Quinn's hands. "Put one foot on," says Quinn.

Marley does. She squeals when her foot slides away, and hastily withdraws it. "It's slippery!"

"It's ice," says Quinn, deadpan.

"Don't mock me, Fabray."

"I don't need to," replies Quinn, arching an eyebrow. "Put your foot flat on the ice, then slowly shift your weight to it before you bring your other foot on."

Marley manages to stand on the ice without falling this time, though she still has a death grip on Quinn.

"You ready?"

"I guess." Marley casts nervous glances down.

"Okay, sweep your foot forward," she instructs. "Don't lift your feet off the ice. Put your skate flat and sort of – push forward. Lean into it as you go."

She is frowning mightily as she focuses on her feet, attempting to do exactly as Quinn says. Marley moves forward; she's clearly exerting most of her energy in keeping her balance, judging by how her knees wobble, but she does manage to inch forward. "I'm doing it!" Marley exclaims.

"Yeah, look at you go." Quinn skates backward with ease, keeping her grip on Marley, watching Marley's feet. She occasionally casts glances behind her to check for oncoming traffic. "I'm gonna let go of one hand now, okay?"

"No!" Marley grips tighter.

"You're getting it," Quinn coaxes her, smiling at the terror on Marley's face. "I'm gonna be right here, and I'll still be holding your hand. You don't want me skating in front of you, trust me."

Slowly, Marley nods. She doesn't look any less scared, but her grip on Quinn's hands loosens.

"You can hold on to the side if it'll make you feel better."

Instantly, Marley's left hand lets go of Quinn and grabs onto the wall. Quinn skates to Marley's right, adjusting their hands so they fit together more comfortably.

Marley's eyes haven't left her feet the entire time. Slowly, she continues skating, the movements jerky and uneven, but she's skating, and Quinn is proud.

"You're doing amazing, Marley," she says.

"Just don't let go of me," says Marley, sounding panicky.

"You're holding on to the wall as well."

"The wall isn't gonna catch me if I fall."

Slowly, they complete a circuit of the rink, and another. Quinn gradually offers less comment on Marley's skating.

"I think you're ready to try skating on your own," Quinn says.

"No!"

"You'll be fine!" Quinn insists. "We'll stop here, and you can go whenever you're ready, okay?"

Marley sighs. "Fine." She lets herself be guided safely to the side. "Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you gonna teach me to stop now, or am I just going to have to crash into the wall?"

Quinn snorts with laughter. "But it's a pretty effective method of stopping, and so much better than falling down."

"You're still not funny."

"Dig the toe of your skate into the ice behind you," instructs Quinn. "That's it."

"That's it?" repeats Marley incredulously. "I can barely balance on two feet, and stopping involves balancing on one?"

"Ergo, crashing into the wall."

Marley stares up at the ceiling. "I have so many regrets."

Quinn chuckles. "How about this: if you make it around the rink once on your own, I buy you lunch. Deal?"

"You're serious?" Immediately, Marley straightens, her expression filled with determination. "Prepare your purse." She crouches, pushes off from the wall, and is gone before Quinn's eyes.

She stares, flabbergasted, for a second before she digs her skates into the ice to take off after Marley. "Way to go, Marley!" Quinn calls. She feels proud enough to burst, watching Marley skate. Being Marley, she has to do it in a downright adorable manner; face screwed up in concentration, a hint of tongue poking out of her corner of her mouth. She's going slowly, and more often than not her eyes go wide as she loses control of her feet (but still magically manages to stay upright).

Quinn weaves in and out of the crowd fluidly, keeping her eye on Marley. She slips past a group of guys and skates beside her. "I'm doing it!" Marley says happily. Quinn laughs and agrees, surreptitiously slowing her pace to match Marley's.

When she spots the exit, Quinn easily overtakes Marley and pulls up to a graceful halt in front of the gate. "Try stopping now," she says.

Just as quickly as it disappeared, the panic comes back to Marley's expression. "What?!"

"Dig the toe of your skate into the ice behind you," Quinn reminds her. "Or crash into the wall," she adds as an afterthought. "Whichever one suits you."

"What if I can't stop in time?" Marley wails.

"I'll catch you! You won't fall, I promise!" She spreads her arms.

Marley's face is a mask of concentration. She digs the toe of her right boot into the ice behind her, as instructed, and tries to keep her balance.

Quinn can tell that she's not putting enough weight into stopping, and so she braces herself for impact.

Marley doesn't actually collide into Quinn. She appears to trip on the ice and fall forward; Quinn darts forward to catch her.

"Thanks," says Marley bashfully. "I thought I was a goner back there." She wraps her arms around Quinn's waist, clearly not in a hurry to go anywhere.

"Did you trip?"

"Yeah, I was headed for you way too fast so I really dug in, and – you know what happened." She chuckles awkwardly. "But at least I know how to stop now, so go me?"

"You could've just gone for the wall."

"The wall wouldn't have caught me," she insists. "And you're way cuter than the wall," she adds slyly.

"Compliments will get you nowhere. You were doing just fine on your own," Quinn says. "You're honestly doing really well for a beginner; I didn't pick up skating as quickly as you did."

"How old were you when you first started?" Marley disengages herself from Quinn's arms, taking hold of Quinn's hand, holding on tightly.

Quinn frowns. "Nine, I think. I was already taking ballet; my mom thought it would be a good complement for that." Absently, she leads them around the rink.

"A little ice princess," snickers Marley.

Quinn gives her a frosty smile. "I could let go and leave you here."

"I'm sorry!"

Her icy facade crumbles, and Quinn laughs at her, guiding Marley around a pair of awkward teenagers without breaking their stride.

"I wish I didn't suggest ice skating now that I've found out you're gonna be using your ice superiority to lord it over me," Marley grumbles. Her skates slip over a puddle, and Quinn has to catch Marley around the waist to stop Marley's legs from flying out from under her.

Quinn can't help herself; she's always been unable to resist a challenge. "Ice superiority? You mean _this_?" Quinn parks Marley by the wall before she pushes off, skating to the empty middle of the rink. She skates in a loop, gathering speed, before she executes a graceful axel jump. Quinn knows the landing was sloppy from the wobbly way she hits the ice; she winces. She's out of practice, and it shows.

But when she makes her way back to Marley, all she sees is undisguised awe. "That was amazing!" Marley exclaims. "You didn't say you were _that _good at ice skating!"

"That's because I'm not," replies Quinn, flushed with exertion and embarrassment. "I stopped skating when I got into the Cheerios, I'm really out of practice."

But Marley reaches out to grab the hem of Quinn's shirt and tug her closer. "You really should give yourself more credit, Quinn," she murmurs. "You're very talented."

Quinn allows herself a smile. "You're not so shabby yourself, Rose. I'm not the one who learned to skate in half an hour."

"I had a good teacher." Marley pecks the tip of Quinn's nose, and grabs her hands. "Now, are you gonna teach me how to stop properly?"

"Didn't you say you knew how?"

"I lied," says Marley with a cheeky grin.

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Let's go, then." She tows Marley along the ice, laughing at the other girl as she clings on to Quinn. Marley, already touchy-feely, shamelessly takes the opportunity to cling to Quinn, even as she gets more confident.

"I suddenly see why you were so insistent we go ice skating," says Quinn dryly.

"Learning a new skill is very important, Quinn," replies Marley, all wide-eyed innocence. She interlinks their fingers and swings their arms between them. Her eyes go wide (with panic, this time) as she momentarily loses her balance, and regains it, in the space of a few seconds, all without help from Quinn.

Quinn's very proud of her.

"If you're out of practice, how are you still so good at skating?" asks Marley once she's caught her breath.

"Muscle memory. It's like riding a bicycle; you never forget." Quinn pauses. "Or at least I'm told."

"What do you mean? Don't you know how to ride a bicycle?"

"No. My dad thought ballet and ice skating were good enough for exercise, and my mom was always worried I'd fall and hurt myself, or tear my clothes."

Marley grins. "Then I know what we're doing next."

"I thought you'd gotten today all planned out."

"Plans change, Quinn. That's what makes it fun." She whips her phone out of the pocket. "Now pause for a bit, we need to take a picture."

"You'll have to catch me first," says Quinn cheekily, laughing at Marley's astonishment.

She recovers quickly. "Is that a challenge, Fabray?" Marley says, a smile spreading over her face. She's pink-cheeked from exertion and the cold, her eyes alight with excitement.

Quinn wants to kiss her. She settles for tossing a smirk at Marley over her shoulder, and taking off over the ice, followed by Marley's laughter.

* * *

"This isn't Louisville."

Marley laughs. "Real perceptive. You're on a roll today, aren't you?"

Quinn fishes in the glove compartment and finds a half-eaten bag of gummy bears. She takes one out and flicks it at Marley.

"No throwing food!" Marley gasps in outrage.

"It's my car. I do what I want." She folds the open end of the package neatly, tucking it back where she found it. "So, where are we?"

"Indianapolis! Home of the Indy 500."

"That's not part of today, is it?"

Marley goes wide-eyed. "No. Unless you like racing. Which in that case, we can make some changes…"

"I was kidding." Quinn laughs at Marley's mulish expression. "What have you got planned?"

Marley parks the car, and retrieves the gummy bears from the glove compartment. She pouts exaggeratedly at Quinn as she helps herself to a handful, before roughly folding up the bag and putting it away. "You'll see," she says.

"Is it cycling?"

"No, off-road biking," says Marley in a very good imitation of Quinn. She drags Quinn to a bike rental shop.

She picks out bikes for herself and Quinn. "A lot of people get bikes that are too short for them," she explains, steering Quinn away from the bike she is looking at. "You need one that you should be able to rest your toes comfortably on the ground."

Quinn looks nervous. "That's still too high," she says, mentally measuring the seat against her hip.

"It really isn't. You don't wanna scrape your heels on the tarmac, trust me."

They lead their bikes out to the empty concrete lot behind the store, where there are a few kids learning to ride from their parents. Quinn is nervous, of course, but it's something she's used to when she's with Marley. Except in the previous times she's felt this way, all she had to do was put on a brave face and soldier through.

Right now, with her white-knuckled grip on the handlebars, and one foot on the pedal, Quinn thinks that if she reverts to that defense mechanism, she might not survive the next few hours.

"How on earth do you balance on this thing?" she grouses, standing on her toes as she tries to get used to the bike.

"You can't unless the bike is moving," says Marley, holding onto Quinn's handlebars. She's obviously trying not to laugh at Quinn, but Quinn lets it pass. "Once you get going, you'll balance yourself."

Quinn stares at her. "That doesn't make any sense."

Some of what she's feeling must show on her face, because Marley bursts into a peal of laughter, and has to clap a hand over her mouth. "I'm gonna keep holding on to you, and you focus on pedaling," says Marley, still grinning like a fool. "Just keep going around the lot. Don't worry about falling, okay sweetheart? I won't let go."

"How the tables have turned," Quinn jokes weakly. The endearment barely registers on her already-overloaded emotions.

Marley chuckles. "Ready when you are."

Slowly, Quinn starts to pedal. They lurch forward, slowly at first, as Quinn gets used to the bike. Her heart leaps into her throat whenever it wobbles, but Marley is true to her word, and she doesn't fall.

"Try turning," Marley suggests. Quinn tweaks the handlebars to the left nervously, and then with more confidence.

"That's it." Marley's sneakers squeak on the concrete as they round the corner. "You're getting it," she says encouragingly. "You might wanna try pedaling faster if you think you're up to it; use the brake if you go too fast."

Quinn presses her teeth against her lower lip and decides to go for it. She speeds up, and the bike wobbles accordingly; she has a white-knuckled grip on the handlebars but she doesn't touch the brake. Quinn can hear Marley breathing heavily behind her as she keeps up with Quinn.

She gently squeezes the brake and rolls to a halt. Marley waits for Quinn to stop completely before putting her hands on her knees and gasping for breath.

"That was… you were pretty great," says Marley.

"Because you were holding my bike the entire time." She's amazed that Marley managed to keep up with her.

"Just repaying the favor, Miss Fabray." She straightens up, sweeps her hair out of her eyes, and wipes her hands on the back of her jeans. "Seriously, though, you learn fast. When I was learning to ride, I didn't listen to my instructor and I fell quite a few times because of it."

"How long did you take to learn?"

"Half a year? I think. I wanted a job but most of the places that were hiring weren't within walking distance, and Mom couldn't take time off work to drive me. Mom and I talked it over, and we thought it would be a good idea if I learned how to ride a bike. Then I'd be able to get around on my own. She arranged that I'd help out at the local bike store in exchange for bike lessons, which we'd do in the evening when the store was closed."

"It was really fun, though. I learned all about maintenance and stuff from Mr Olsen – that's the guy who owned the place – though I never did get round to buying a bike of my own. I ended up staying on part-time until we moved to Lima."

"Do you cycle in Lima?"

"Nah." Marley chuckles. "Lima's a lot smaller, we live pretty close to McKinley High, and I'm working for my mom now so I don't need a bike to get to work."

"Oh."

Marley hums. "Focus, Quinn. I don't want you falling and skinning your knee. "

"I'm sure you're a better teacher than that," says Quinn innocently. Marley laughs.

"Great, so does that mean I can let go now?"

Quinn's heart has started hammering in her chest. Marley is watching her with that bright-eyed anticipation that makes Quinn unable to disappoint her. "Uh – okay," she says, and smiles in spite of herself when Marley's entire face brightens.

"That's great!" Marley says again, and – to Quinn's utter disbelief – rubs her hands together. "So, we're gonna go as usual, then when you've built up some speed, I'll let go. Ready when you are."

She throws a look of deep disgust at Marley over her shoulder; it's met with an angelic smile. There's nothing left for Quinn except to focus on the hateful bike. She can do this. If she can be the youngest Cheerio captain in history, if she can get into an Ivy League school… she can _definitely_ ride a bike.

Quinn squares her shoulders. "Ready."

They take off. She focuses on balancing, centering herself as Marley's been telling her to do, keeping her hands steady.

"I'm letting go!"

She feels the difference instantly; the bike wobbles so much, it might as well be made of Jell-O. Marley is no longer a comfortable presence behind Quinn, but she can hear her shouting.

Quinn manages to wobble along for a short distance before she puts her leg down.

Marley catches up with her, looking fit to burst. "You did it!"

"I didn't!"

"You made it all the way here from over there, I saw!" Marley waves vaguely in the direction they came from. It makes no sense, but Quinn doesn't care.

"That's 'cause I got the running start from you!" Adrenaline courses through Quinn's blood, mostly because she's so relieved she didn't fall. That would have been the cherry on top of today's perfect day.

"Hey, the Wright brothers flew for like, a couple of seconds at Kitty Hawk. It totally counts." Marley rests her hands on her hips, grinning at Quinn. "Wanna try again?"

"If I must."

Marley chuckles. "That's the spirit." She glances around at their surroundings, suddenly furtive, and kisses Quinn's cheek swiftly. "Some incentive for you," she says, laughing at Quinn's stunned expression.

* * *

Once Quinn has mastered cycling enough to make a few shaky rounds of the concrete lot without needing Marley to hold on to the back of her bike, Marley declares herself satisfied by Quinn's progress, and buys them both ice creams.

"It's too hot," Marley grumbles. She unbuttons her flannel shirt completely and takes it off, revealing a McKinley High PE T-shirt.

Quinn bursts out laughing. "You're wearing that?"

"It's comfy," Marley says defensively, but she's smiling too.

The only concession Quinn has made to the heat is to undo another button of her shirt. Unlike Marley, she isn't wearing another layer underneath it, so her shirt stays on.

Even though Marley's hair is tousled and a great deal of it sticks to her face, Quinn's first thought is: _she's beautiful._ It makes her realize that now that she has Marley, she wants to hold on tight to her and never let go.

Their time, as a _they_, is numbered. She can't hold on to any of it, only the memories.

"Quinn? You've been staring at me for quite a while." Marley wears this half-smile, looking at Quinn with unmistakable fondness. "What's wrong? Have I got something on my face?"

"Yeah," breathes Quinn, and brings up her hand to smear ice cream on Marley's nose, giggling in delight. "Now you do."

Marley shrieks. She gives chase, shouting incoherently at Quinn, sounding very much like she's laughing too. The battle is concluded in Quinn's favor when Marley fails to catch Quinn, instead flopping on the grass with a defeated groan to catch her breath.

"Don't fight battles you can't win," says Quinn as she drops to the grass beside Marley.

"Yeah, rub it in, why don't you?" grumbles Marley. She throws a handful of grass half-heartedly at Quinn, chuckling when it sticks to her sweaty skin.

The wind picks up; Marley sighs happily. "I can't believe you didn't know how to ride a bike."

"I still don't," Quinn corrects her.

"Really? Not from where I'm standing." She turns her head to smile at Quinn, one of those effervescent smiles that make Quinn's heart catch. "It's a good thing the store didn't have trikes in your size. That would've been hilarious." Marley laughs at her own joke. "I can see it now: Quinn Fabray, Yale freshman, on her pink Barbie trike." She laughs so hard she goes red in the face.

"Hey, what have you got against pink Barbie trikes? I got one for Christmas when I was six, but it was a bike, not a trike."

"No way."

"It's true!" Quinn insists.

"Then how come you don't know how to ride?"

"I told you, my mom was afraid I'd fall off and skin my knee. Or worse, turn into one of those neighbourhood tomboys with their muddy dungarees and missing teeth." Quinn had actually aspired to be one of those girls. She'd even asked for dungarees for her sixth birthday so she could go play with them. "My parents always put me in nice babydoll dresses which I wasn't allowed to get dirty."

Marley props herself up on one elbow so she can look at Quinn. "What happened?" she asks seriously.

Quinn shrugs one shoulder carelessly. "They gave it away to one of their church friends."

Marley's expression goes still and flat. "Quinn?"

"Mmm?"

"Tell me about the other girl that you used to be."

Quinn sighs. "Why?"

"I'm trying to understand how someone as wonderful as you could come from parents like…" She trails off. "Please, Quinn."

"Her name was Lucy," she begins. "She was fat, but not the cute kind of fat. Everyone said she'd grow out of it when puberty hit, but she never did."

"She was the only one with brown hair, a mousy unremarkable brown, in a family of beautiful blondes. She had a blob for a nose, bad eyes from all the reading she did, and she had terrible acne. On her fourteenth birthday, she asked for her dad to get a transfer so she could make a fresh start someplace new. He indulged her, and gave her another gift: a nose job."

Marley's hand sneaks into hers and holds on tight.

"When the bandages came off and I looked into the mirror…" Quinn's voice wavers, "I told myself that I would never, _ever_, be Lucy again."

Marley looks as though she is at a loss for something to say; rare for her.

"You could never imagine what it was like for Lucy," Quinn says quietly. "You've always been beautiful."

"Me, beautiful?"

"Yeah, you." She's always been very taken by Marley's eyes; like the sea, blue and green, new shades of in-between varying with her moods, deep enough to lose herself in. "I used to wish I had blue eyes like Frannie – like yours."

The pause that follows stretches into an awkward silence. Before Quinn can add something to salvage the conversation, Marley says: "I know it's not the same, but I know what it's like not to fit in. I used to go to school wearing my classmates' old clothes that they'd donated to Goodwill."

Quinn winces. She knows exactly what they would have said to Marley. "I'm sorry."

Marley waves her off. "It's past now. I did what I needed to, and so did you. I believe that everything that's happened, good and bad, should only exist to remind us how much we've grown."

"I just thought you should know that most of what you're looking at isn't real," admits Quinn.

Marley is silent. She sits up calmly, her eyes raking over Quinn from head to toe, expression enigmatic. "Did you get brain surgery too?" she asks casually.

Quinn gapes at her. "Excuse me?"

"Did you fix your brain to make yourself smart? Or maybe heart surgery to make it kind?"

"Of course not," says Quinn, once she's gotten over the absurdity of Marley's questions (and the hilarious mental images). She knows the point Marley's trying to make, but her pride won't stop her from putting up a token protest.

"As far as I'm concerned, you're just Quinn Fabray, and I like everything about you. I'm not so judgemental to start disliking you just because you used to look totally different. You're beautiful, Quinn, but you've probably heard that a million times," says Marley with a little self-deprecating laugh. "Anybody with eyes can see that you're objectively pretty, but beautiful doesn't sum up everything I find attractive about you. Like… you're ridiculously smart. You have a wicked sense of humor. You're driven, and secretly nerdy, and for some weird reason, you don't want the world to know how kind and thoughtful you really are."

Quinn, a little pink herself, clears her throat. "We should… we should probably return the bikes, I think the rental time is almost up." She sits up, and pauses when a hand closes around her wrist.

"Hey," says Marley. "Don't ever apologize for being who you are. Because Quinn Fabray is someone special, and I'm glad I got to know you."

"I wish I could see myself the way you see me."

Marley smiles softly. "If you could, you would never stop loving yourself," she says, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind Quinn's ear.

* * *

On their way back to the car, Marley spots it first. "Quinn?"

Quinn, knowing that tone of voice well at this point in the trip, shakes her head. "No."

"You didn't even look!"

"I don't need to look at it, Marley; I know it's something I'm not gonna like."

Marley laughs. "You say that, but I'm starting to think that you don't really mean it. You just like keeping up appearances." She walks over to the storefront. "Thrift stores are fun. Macklemore said so."

"Don't tell Mr Schue that. He might include it in a setlist." But her words are futile, as Marley's already disappeared inside.

"Quinn, look," she says.

Quinn follows her line of sight and then giggles. "You wouldn't."

"Watch me."

Marley stuffs the ten-gallon hat on her head, throwing Quinn a finger gun and a wink. "Howdy, ma'am," she drawls, her Texan accent suddenly very prominent. "What's cookin', good-lookin'?"

"Marley!" Quinn hisses, swatting at her with a free hand. Her cheeks burn hot, because there's a part of her that finds that irresistible in spite of herself.

"I know you love it. Here, try it on while I take a look at these matching boots."

Quinn hesitantly does. She squints at her reflection in the wall mirror. It's far too big for her, falling comically over her eyes. "I look ridiculous."

"Which is still very cute."

"Did you know we did a cowboy number in Glee once?"

Marley pauses, eyes wide. "No. Really? You're not pulling my leg again, are you?"

"Ask Rachel. I'm sure she has a full catalog of every embarrassing performance the club's ever done." Quinn squints at the garment in Marley's hands. "What's that?"

"Oh! Right. Look, this is a steal. I think it really brings out your eyes." She holds up the white blouse so Quinn can see.

"My eyes?" Quinn fingers the green-and-gold trim of the blouse dubiously. "My eyes are brown."

Marley looks incredibly offended, as though Quinn has insulted her entire family. "They are certainly not plain _ol' brown_. They're hazel, and they have flecks of green in them. Did you know your eyes turn gold in the sunlight? I…" She flushes, and doesn't finish her sentence. "If you don't buy it, I will," Marley insists.

"You've been spending a lot for a broke college student."

"How often do we go on a road trip together?" Marley fires back.

Quinn arches an eyebrow. She crosses her arms, but she knows she's lost this battle.

Marley smiles smugly. On her way to the cashier, she pauses. "Hey, Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

Marley's mouth curves into a smile. "Don't fight battles you can't win."

* * *

"Quinn?"

"Mmm?" It comes out as a low and sleepy grumble; she was just about to fall asleep.

"I'm really glad you agreed to go out with me today."

"Me too." Unbidden, a smile comes to Quinn's face.

Marley shifts. "I really wish we could do that more often."

Quinn blinks, suddenly awake. "Marley…"

"I know. I'm just saying. I love it that just when I think I've gotten you all figured out, you still manage to surprise me. I wish that we had more time." She presses closer to Quinn and falls asleep almost immediately.

Quinn has a lump in her throat. She wants that too, so much it hurts.


	10. Nashville, Tennessee

**Author's Notes: **Thanks go to **_Mike Ownby _**for going through the drafts, making sure the American things are truly American, and for helping me figure out which things are in the fic, and not in my head. The extended notes can be found on my Tumblr **_yumi-michiyo _**as usual.

* * *

A few months back, when Quinn and Santana were planning out their road trip, Quinn found that Louisville was mentioned on a number of tourist guides as being a nice place for sightseeing. Subsequently, she had no trouble adding it to their itinerary, especially after casually mentioning the number of breweries in the town.

Despite all that, Quinn has yet to actually _see_ the sights.

It's really all her fault; she'd chosen to wear her new shirt today, and was rewarded with a slow appreciative glance that Marley didn't bother to hide. Which Quinn liked; it had been too long since someone had looked at her _that _way. But it's been at least an hour since she'd gotten dressed, and they have yet to check out of their motel room.

"Marley," she starts, and then doesn't finish the thought, because Marley is kissing her again. Quinn can feel the other girl smile into her skin.

"Hmmm?"

"We should… we need to go." She forgets why, exactly, when Marley's fingers curl around the back of her neck and scratch lightly, sending shivers down her spine.

"And we will, once I'm done here," promises Marley. "Did I mention that your shirt looks really, really good on you?"

"Yes. About a hundred times so far, and counting." Quinn knows it came out sounding a lot more petulant that she'd intended, but Marley just laughs at her.

"See? It's all your fault." Marley's breath patters on Quinn's skin, and makes it very hard for Quinn to focus.

"Okay, we've established that you're useless, but how is this _my_ fault?" Quinn asks indignantly.

"Because I have no self-control?" Marley drops a soft kiss on Quinn's cheek; it's the most innocent out of all the ones they've shared this morning, and yet it's the one that takes Quinn's breath away. "Okay, yes. You're right; we should go."

"Finally," Quinn mutters. She doesn't bother hiding her disappointment because she knows it'll get a smile out of Marley. Which, frankly, is pointless, because the other girl has yet to stop smiling.

* * *

Over the past few days, Quinn's had plenty of time to notice that Marley's driving is completely different from her own.

When Quinn drives, it's about getting from Point A to Point B with the most direct route according to the navigation app on her phone.

But when Marley drives, she doesn't look at her phone at all; there have even been a few times when Marley drives in the opposite direction of the GPS's instructions. Quinn used to think it was because Marley was terrible at directions and/or driving, but now…

Now that she's not in a hurry for this trip to end, Quinn finds herself starting to appreciate Marley's approach to traveling. How she depends on local signage to find her way around. How she's prone to pulling over in a small town because she sees something interesting and wants to get a closer look.

Now would be a prime example; currently, they're parked outside a diner in Elizabethtown, because Marley proclaimed her love for the movie of the same name while on the highway, and proceeded to take the next exit for the town.

"Orlando Bloom, Quinn! And Kirsten Dunst!"

She shakes her head. "Never heard of it."

"An outrage. We're watching it tonight," mumbles Marley. She has her camera out as she marches up and down the main street, occasionally squinting through the camera viewfinder to check the angle.

"Fine." To Quinn, Elizabethtown looks like any other small and unremarkable Midwestern town, so she watches Marley instead. The other girl has her brow furrowed as she inspects the picture she's just taken. Quinn's noticed that she'll chew on her lower lip if the picture isn't to her liking; she'll smile if it is.

Marley squints at her camera, smiles smugly, and returns to Quinn.

"What movies do _you _watch?"

"What?" She's distracted, and waits for Marley to repeat the question.

"Frankly, I'm amazed I haven't asked you this earlier. We've talked about everything else; favorite ice cream flavor, favorite color…"

"Out of curiosity, what _is _my favorite color?" Quinn honestly doesn't remember telling Marley that, but to be fair, the past week-and-a-half has been rather eventful.

"Periwinkle blue. Even though a lot of people think it's meant for babies." There's a hot blush starting up Marley's neck for some reason.

"Hmm." Quinn nods, impressed.

"Stop changing the subject. So, what's your favorite movie?"

"Uh…" Quinn frowns. "I don't really have one. Most musicals are okay, as long as they're not too Broadway. I've probably seen every Disney film ever made 'cause that's the only thing everyone can agree on for movie night."

Marley puts her hands on her hips. "That was specific."

Quinn laughs. "I just prefer reading. Why is it so important for me to have favorite movies?"

"Honestly? I was half-expecting you'd declare your passion for grainy old black and white films, or foreign movies with subtitles, or… _Citizen Kane_."

"I'm not _that_ much of a nerd," Quinn protests, outraged. "So this is what you think of me? I'm hurt, Rose."

"I never said you were a nerd; you said it yourself," says Marley. She puts her camera back in her pocket. "Me, I love romantic comedies. The cheesier, the better. You know, _A Walk to Remember _and stuff like that."

"It's really obvious."

Marley grins lazily at her, completely unbothered. "What's the last movie you watched? That _you _picked?" she quickly adds.

Quinn, who was about to answer the first question, has to pause to think. ""I watched… _Inception_, because I wanted to see what the hype was about."

Marley raises an eyebrow. "So much for not being a nerd."

"I resent that," says Quinn. "And… _O Brother, Where Art Thou?_" She'd seen a film review on the classical allusions in the movie, and had been curious enough about how the Odyssey meshed with rural America to rent the DVD.

"Hmm. Very interesting." Marley mimes stroking an imaginary beard, squinting at Quinn. "Very, very interesting."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "What's the verdict, Carl Jung?"

A loud laugh bubbles out of Marley. "You're either a robot, or you think your favorite movie is too embarrassing to share with me. Which is baffling. Like, my favorite movie of all time is _Enchanted_; it's hard to name a guiltier pleasure than that."

"No judgement," says Quinn. "I love _Enchanted_ too."

"But it's not your favorite movie?"

"I told you, I don't really have a favorite movie." Quinn scoffs. "You're making me sound like such a snob."

"I bet you this bag of gummy bears that you have a favorite movie, and I'll find out sooner or later," Marley informs her, smiling. "You can't hide the truth from me, Quinn; I'm like a Canadian Mountie."

"Those are _my _gummy bears. You ate all of yours yesterday." Quinn rolls her eyes. "Okay, I watched _Once _last week with Rachel. I guess that's my current favorite movie."

Marley's face lights up. "I love that movie, but it's so sad. But really beautiful," Marley sighs happily, sounding completely oblivious to Quinn's sarcasm. "It really got me into songwriting."

"You write songs?" She has a flashback to the song she and Rachel wrote (it totally counted if she inspired Rachel to write it) for Regionals. "Are they any good?" she asks, half-joking.

"Probably not," replies Marley in that same light tone. "I thought they were pretty good at the time, though; even sent some off to songwriting competitions, but didn't hear back, of course."

"You could major in songwriting in college. Doesn't NYU have that famous music school? You could be the next Sia," says Quinn.

Much to her surprise, red creeps up Marley's neck: a surefire sign she's uncomfortable. "I guess. Oh! Are you hungry? We could grab some food for the road." Marley nods at the diner. "Since we're already parked here and all. It's not very nice of us to be using their parking spots for nothing."

Quinn, herself a master of evasion and deflecting, knows what Marley's doing. But she recognizes this isn't the right time and place for this conversation, so she plays dumb and doesn't pry further.

* * *

They stop at a gas station to switch over. "Let's take a break," says Marley, stretching her arms over her head.

Quinn looks away before Marley can catch her staring. "Sure."

"I could go for a drink," Marley continues, glancing over at the convenience store. "What about you?"

"No, thank you."

"You sure? It's still a little way longer to Nashville." Marley pulls out her phone to check her map. "We're about an hour out."

"We just had breakfast. Not everyone is a black hole like you."

She shrugs and walks off, returning shortly afterwards with her arms full of colorful bags. "So, I know we're headed for Nashville…" says Marley, opening a bottle of soda.

"Yes…?" Quinn arches an eyebrow at her.

"There were a whole bunch of flyers inside advertising local tourist stuff." Marley reaches into the heap of junk food and pulls out a flyer that says _Mammoth Cave _in _Jurassic Park_-styled font.

"Mammoth Cave?" Quinn asks, warily. "This isn't like the Bell Witch cave thing that Santana tried to sucker me into putting on the plan, is it?"

"What? God, no." Marley holds up the brochure to show Quinn. "It's the longest cave system in the world. Most importantly, there's a Dinosaur World!"

"Right, you and your dinosaurs." It's hard to forget how excited Marley was to meet Sue in Chicago. Quinn squints at the brochure, and the photos of people posing with dinosaur models. It looks unabashedly tacky; the exact sort of thing she knows Marley loves. "So, you wanna go?"

"It's on the way to Nashville," wheedles Marley. "They have over 150 lifesize dinosaur replicas," she says, flipping the brochure over. "And real fossils, look!"

"We have plenty of fossils in the staff room at McKinley," says Quinn, just to annoy Marley.

Marley snorts with laughter. "God, your sense of humor is ridiculous. It's hard to believe that you used to be the most terrifying person in school."

"I still am, because I sic Rachel _and_ Santana on anyone who says otherwise."

Her friend's eyes go wide. "Quinn!"

Quinn smirks. "That was a joke."

"I know it is," says Marley, "but I can totally imagine you unleashing them on people. They're really scary when competitions are coming up." She shudders and helps herself to a handful of gummy bears from her stash. "So… is that a yes? For the record, I think you're the funniest person in the galaxy," she adds, waggling her eyebrows exaggeratedly.

Of course, Quinn can't say no; especially not when Marley is being this ridiculous. "Give me a bag of your snacks and you've got yourself a deal," she says.

"Really?" Marley squeals. She hands her opened bag of gummy bears to Quinn, who wrinkles her nose.

"Yes, but I really don't understand you," Quinn says. She accepts the bag nonetheless.

Marley shakes her head. She reaches into the bag Quinn is now holding, helping herself to more candy. "What's there to understand? I'm a girl, Quinn; not a Mensa puzzle."

"I thought you were pretty cool in the beginning," says Quinn. "It was honestly such a relief when you said you were okay with most of the original itinerary. Then as this trip progresses, suddenly you wanna switch out the places we agreed on earlier for the weirdest tourist traps. I'm not complaining or anything, I'm just… dinosaurs? Really? Not to mention the world's largest ball of paint that we skipped yesterday…"

Marley grins sheepishly. "You're pretty cool yourself, for letting me put in all these weird places."

"Flattery will get you nowhere." She reaches into the bag she's holding, and gasps in outrage when she finds it empty. "My gummies!"

"They were good," says Marley sheepishly. She gasps in outrage too, when Quinn lobs the balled-up bag at her. "Quinn!"

"I cannot believe you. You literally just gave me that bag," says Quinn mournfully.

"I'll replace it, you goober." Marley is clearly fighting back laughter; Quinn briefly smiles in amusement before she purses her lips back into a pout.

"You're going back to the store now?"

"I'll have to, I only bought one bag of gummy bears." Marley pokes through her haul disconsolately.

Quinn narrows her eyes. "You owe me two bags now, 'cause I'm gonna hide one where it'll be safe from you."

Marley makes a face at her. "No, you're gonna hide it somewhere and then forget about it. It'll end up being a melted mess that you'll discover after this trip is over. Give me a call when you find it then; I'll come over just to laugh at you." She grabs her purse and starts walking towards the convenience store.

"Don't be ridiculous. My car's a Mini; no way something can go missing in it," Quinn calls after her.

Marley twists around, sticks her tongue out at Quinn, and continues walking; all without breaking her stride.

Quinn chuckles to herself.

Marley returns shortly after with the promised gummy bears. Quinn makes a show of tucking one bag into the side compartment of the passenger seat.

Marley snorts. "You know I'll just help myself when we switch over later, right?"

"I'm not keeping them here forever, I'll hide them later."

Marley shakes her head. "Figures. Oh, and Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

"To answer your question earlier, I wasn't sure if you were cool with all my weird tourist trap things." Marley looks a little uncomfortable. "I was still a little scared of you, to be perfectly honest."

"Oh."

"But," she continues, "the more I got to know you, the more comfortable I got being myself around you."

Quinn frowns. The logic makes sense, apart from one niggling detail. "But if you were scared of me, why did you agree to take a chance on this road trip in the first place?"

Much to Quinn's surprise, Marley's cheeks turn pink and she doesn't answer. "We should get going or we won't have time to cram everything in today," says Marley, turning the key in the ignition.

It's the second time Marley has dodged a question, and it really isn't like her. Yet, coaxing people into talking isn't exactly Quinn's forte.

Tonight, she tells herself. If it happens again, Quinn'll ask about it tonight. It's the least she can do for this strange and wonderful girl.

* * *

"We're finally here." It had been a close thing; Marley had wanted to stay at Dinosaur World for the rest of the day. In the end, Quinn had prevailed, and they'd arrived in Nashville before long.

Marley practically skips down the street, gawking up at the Grand Ole Opry. "This is amazing."

"It really is, but honestly? I'm getting a little tired of big fancy buildings, we've been seeing plenty of them over the past few days."

Marley stops dead to gawk at her. "Quinn!" she exclaims, offended as though Quinn has uttered something blasphemous.

"You and your obsession with big houses." Quinn says fondly.

"Can you blame me, Quinn? Look at it." She flails at the building. "Oh, mah deah!" Marley says in an exaggerated Southern accent.

"No."

"Yeah!"

Quinn squints at her. Marley is excitable, that's for sure, but she seems a little more hyped up than usual. "How much sugar did you eat in the car?"

"Dunno. Not yours, though," says Marley defensively. "See, this is what happens when I don't drive. I end up snacking."

"Figures," says Quinn with a sigh. "I'm road-tripping with a sugar-crazed child."

"But you like me," Marley counters. The impish smile she wears tells Quinn she's well aware of the double meaning.

The warm summer air turns oppressive. Quinn realizes – just in time – that her answer here is important. "Sometimes, I wonder why I even like you," she begins cautiously. "You're absolutely ridiculous."

Marley brightens; Quinn breathes a soft sigh of relief. "I don't blame you; who wouldn't get up on all this?" Marley asks in a fake gangsta accent, gesturing at herself.

"Most sane people," remarks Quinn, earning herself a dirty look.

"Which you are not? Though you're the prettiest girl ever to fall for my charms."

"Like you had your share of pretty girls chasing after you."

"I wouldn't know," Marley admits shyly. "I never imagined someone like you ever liking someone like me."

"_I_ would've never imagined me being okay with liking girls at all."

It's the first time they've talked about Quinn being gay since… _Chicago._ Sometimes, Quinn feels like one of the sexual predators her dad used to warn her gay people were; lying in wait to corrupt innocent, naive people, teaching them their wicked ways. After all, Marley isn't gay, but they're… more than friends. Quinn won't say they're together, because all this will have to come to an end in less than a week.

After a brief pause to marshal all these thoughts into coherent sentences, Quinn says so, and is mildly offended when Marley doubles up in helpless laughter.

"God, you…" She dissolves into more laughter. "Quinn, I…"

"Just finish laughing before you give yourself an aneurysm," says Quinn snippily. It only sets Marley off all over again.

Marley tips her head back, sucking in loud lungfuls of air. "Okay, I'm calm," she says. Her head rolls to the side, forehead coming to rest against Quinn's shoulder. "I promise I won't laugh now."

"Thank you," says Quinn dryly.

"You're not a gay predator, Quinn," Marley says, her mouth twitching. "You didn't turn me gay, I swear. No offense, but your dad is a little… well. I'm not his biggest fan."

"The less said about him, the better," says Quinn. It's silly, but hearing Marley lay it out eases a load off Quinn's mind.

"My mom raised me to believe that love is love. It must have been hard, growing up the way you did." She reaches for Quinn's hand.

"That's nice. My parents don't know I am," says Quinn. "Gay, that is."

"Do you ever think you'll tell them?"

"No." Quinn presses her lips into a flat line. "My dad couldn't even handle me being pregnant. He doesn't deserve to be kept updated about what's happening in my life. And my mom… she tries, but I think it might be too much for her. Anyway, I don't need approval from them, not anymore."

"Mmhmm."

"I'm actually looking forward to college. Not just because of the whole fresh start, but also to find out who I'm supposed to be without any crazy expectations put on me, or feel like I'm constantly working for parental approval. Just… time and space to adjust."

Marley squeezes her hand. "I think that sounds wonderful."

* * *

Quinn can't hold in her excitement. The Parthenon stands before her, the next best thing to flying to Greece.

"Well, I declare! Mercy me! I reckon this is the biggest, fanciest, mansion of them all," says Marley in her hideous Southern accent.

"Shut up," she says, shoving at a grinning Marley. "Classics don't count."

"Bless your heart."

"I just _know_ you probably insulted me in some obscure Southern way, but I'm gonna ignore you for now."

"You can't ignore me forever!"

* * *

Being the massive Motown fan that she is, Quinn is thrilled to see the United Record Pressing building. "Imagine all the vinyls being produced here," says Quinn, eyes shining with excitement. "And all the stars who stayed in the Motown Suite."

"Are you a vinyl fan?"

Quinn blushes. "It's too expensive a hobby right now. But my dad has an excellent collection. Lucky for me, he left it behind when he moved out." Quinn occasionally feels a little guilty that if she had to choose between the two of them, she'd pick the vinyls over her father.

"When we get back, I insist on seeing them," says Marley. "And listening to them."

She hasn't touched them since she moved back in. But all Quinn can think of, when she sees Marley's excitement, is of the good memories; Sunday afternoons dancing with her father to Benny Goodman. "I think I'd like that," says Quinn.

* * *

They're both just as excited for Hatch Show Print. "I have to buy a souvenir for Sam, he'd sulk if I didn't. He was pretty bummed that he couldn't come on this trip." Quinn looks over at Marley, and can't resist a jab at her expense: "But please don't try to buy something for yourself; we'll still be stuck here when college starts."

Marley scowls. "Hardy har har."

* * *

It's getting late, but Quinn isn't ready for this day to come to an end.

Evidently, Marley feels the same way, because she keeps stubbornly walking around town, leaning into Quinn's side. "Hey, look."

"A bar?"

"Not _that_. They're having a karaoke competition, Quinn, and it's open to all. Look, the first prize's two hundred bucks."

Quinn frowns. "You want to take part in that?"

Marley's mouth scrunches up to the side. "I could use the money. But… performing in front of everyone on my own isn't that great. I mean, Glee's okay, because it's just us in the choir room, and everyone's onstage together for competitions, but…" She sighs. "Yeah, never mind."

"I could perform with you if you want," Quinn finds herself saying.

Marley turns to Quinn, eyes shining. "You would?"

Quinn tries very hard not to blush. "It's two hundred dollars, right? It wouldn't hurt to try, since we've got an unfair advantage over everyone else." She's just glad that Rachel isn't here; Rachel would probably be onstage all night, and Quinn would have to make a scene prying her fingers off the mike at closing time. They'd probably win, but they'd probably also be banned from the place for life.

A quick kiss is pressed to Quinn's cheek, and then she's being dragged inside. Luckily for them, they don't need to use their fake IDs (though they do have to get an underage wristband each). Marley does all the talking, and within fifteen minutes they're waiting for their turn to perform.

Quinn doesn't know what hit her, until she realizes something important. "Oh, shit."

"What?"

"We haven't picked a song."

Marley smiles. "I've got it all planned out," she says, handing Quinn her phone. "We're doing this one."

Her eyes widen when she sees the song playing. "Really? _This _one?"

"Unless you've got a better idea," says Marley. "Besides, I thought you'd be jumping at the chance to perform a song from your current favorite movie."

"It's a little last-minute, but I've had years of experience with Mr Schue and his last-minute setlists," Quinn jokes.

Marley laughs easily.

* * *

When they're called up, Marley's hand finds hers as they walk towards the stage. Her hand is a little cold, and it shakes. Quinn's thumb rubs the inside of Marley's wrist soothingly.

They've agreed that Marley will take the male part as she has the larger range and lower vocal register. When she starts to sing, there's no tremble in her voice.

_I don't know you  
__But I want you  
__All the more for that_

Quinn's breath catches in her throat. The look in Marley's eyes reminds her of a conversation they've had, something about duets and singing for someone else…

She joins in on the next verse; Marley smiles at her briefly, before turning her attention back to the lyrics.

_Words fall through me  
__And always fool me  
And I can't react_

_Once _was a compromise between her and Rachel for movie night, because Rachel wanted a musical and Quinn didn't want another Broadway show. She'd ended up liking the movie (much to Rachel's unending smugness) because it had struck a chord within her, this movie about two lovers who weren't in love.

_Falling slowly, eyes that know me  
__And I can't go back  
__And moods that take me and erase me  
__And I'm painted black_

Marley sings the next verse solo, not looking away from Quinn as she sings.

_Well, you have suffered enough  
__And warred with yourself  
__It's time that you won_

Quinn blushes; it feels as though the lyrics are written for her.

_Take this sinking boat and point it home  
__We've still got time  
__Raise your hopeful voice, you have a choice  
__You'll make it now_

How ironic. It's all wrong; Quinn's already in too deep, they haven't got any time left… and the choice has already been made for them.

Thunderous applause sounds when the song ends. "Well, that wasn't so bad," says Quinn as she leaves the stage. She gets no response, and pauses. "Marley?" She turns around; no Marley.

"Good evenin', y'all!" says a male voice into the PA. "I'm Matt, and I'm glad to announce that since y'all loved that performance so much, here's Marley again!"

Quinn's mouth goes dry. Marley didn't tell her she was pulling this stunt, which means…

… she'll get to hear Marley sing. She'll get an opportunity to watch Marley perform. Which is baffling, considering the only reason she'd performed was because Marley was uncomfortable singing alone.

But yet Marley is there, standing alone in front of everyone, and she's singing.

_Holding my breath  
__Last one I've got left  
__Till I see you_

Quinn forgets to breathe when Marley croons the words into the mike. The audience is equally spellbound, it seems, judging from the hush that falls over the venue.

_Sweet sun  
__Send me the moon  
__Empty the skies out  
__Bringing me one step closer to you_

She can't believe that the woman standing on stage is Marley Rose, overgrown kid. Marley's stage presence is something else altogether, turning the melancholy ballad into something secret and restrained. Longing.

Unrequited love.

But that doesn't make sense.

_Inches away from you  
__Scared what I'll take from you, darling  
__I can live with your ghost  
__If you say that's the most I'll get  
__Darkness to light  
__Moved from day into night to be near you  
__Still here I stand_

Marley hasn't looked at Quinn at all as she sings; in contrast, Quinn hasn't taken her eyes off Marley since she started singing.

_I am sinking like sand in your sea, _sings Marley, as she turns her head and meets Quinn's eyes.

_I will breathe in, breathe out  
__Till you come in and out  
__Of view_

Time stops.

The expression on Marley's face is impossible to read. Then it's gone when she looks away; Quinn blinks, her mouth gone dry.

Marley smiles bashfully when the music stops. "Thank you," she says into the mike, and hops off-stage quickly as applause breaks out. She has no shortage of admirers and praise as she makes her way back to their table, judging by how much she's smiling, and all the "thank you"s she mouths.

"Wow," says Quinn faintly. "That was… you're an amazing performer. Your voice is amazing."

"Thanks," says Marley, ducking her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"You didn't tell me you were gonna do that. I thought you didn't like singing alone."

"Surprise?" says Marley, smiling sheepishly. "It was kinda a spur-of-the-moment thing, to double our chances of winning. Hey, sorry, but I'm gonna get a soda, do you want one?"

The abrupt change of subject is Marley's third strike. Quinn forces herself to smile. "Sure."

* * *

They don't win.

But they don't lose, either.

"Second place," says Quinn, shaking her head in amazement. She knew there was no way they could've won when the guy after them performed _Burning Love _in full Elvis regalia, but second place was more than she was expecting.

"That's still a cool fifty bucks each," Marley points out.

"Why are you sharing your prize money with me? _You_ won it."

"We're equal partners on this road trip enterprise. You let me visit my weird tourist traps, I win us some extra prize money to keep us rolling in gummy bears. Also, you're watching _Elizabethtown _with me, so it all works out." Marley sets up her laptop (a battered thing that Quinn is certain is from the 80s) and boots up the movie.

"I'm sure the _second place in a karaoke competition _part outweighs everything else. God, Marley; you're so…" Quinn searches for the words. "You're so talented."

"Thank you." She blushes scarlet. "It means a lot to me that you think so."

Quinn remembers, then, the conversation they had earlier that day. "... Marley, do you actually want to major in business?"

Marley stiffens; her teeth show as she presses them into her lower lip. "I… yes, of course; it's a stable line, with plenty of job prospects," she says.

"It is," agrees Quinn, a little unwillingly. Her father had turned up his nose at her prospective majors; he'd only agreed to finance her degree after much persuasion from Judy because he strongly hinted he was expecting her to go to law school afterwards. "But I find it hard to believe you can't be successful in the music industry when you sing like that."

"I love music," says Marley softly. "But my mom and I… we haven't got anything. I'm already straining her resources to breaking point just to pay for college living expenses, even with the full scholarship. I can't possibly risk being penniless and starving, trying to make money from music. That would be selfish of me."

Quinn's mouth twists. She understands, she really does; not everyone can be Rachel Berry, with two loving dads who are comfortably well-off enough to pay for all of Rachel's Broadway dreams; from vocal lessons and music camps as a child, to a fully-financed college degree in musical theater in the most expensive city.

Her own family isn't exactly hurting for money either; Russell not paying her tuition wasn't a matter of his not being able to afford it. The rest of her friends aren't as lucky. Quinn knows that Finn's mom was never around because she worked long hours to keep herself and Finn, before she married Burt. Puck's mom works two jobs to provide for Puck's younger sister (Puck supported himself, no one asked for details).

"I understand," she says very quietly. Marley lifts her head. "This is gonna sound really bad, but I didn't know what true poverty looked like until I dated Sam. I have to admit that I don't know anything about being poor, and it would be really crass of me if I acted like I did, just because I couldn't afford to go to Yale without asking my dad for help. It's not the same thing."

"Quinn, no one's expecting you to know," says Marley. "You have your own problems to be dealing with."

She gives a bitter laugh. "Yeah, my problems, because nobody else was dumb enough to get pregnant. Up until I was sixteen, my life was all planned out: Head Cheerio and Prom Queen, dating the quarterback of the football team. We'd get married after high school and settle down in a nice house. I'd be a real estate agent or something equally respectable until we started a family, then I'd quit to stay home and raise the kids." Quinn's lips curl into a sneer. "And then I got pregnant way too early, by the wrong guy, and I ruined everything."

"It turned out for the best, though," Marley observes quietly. "That wasn't what you wanted."

"Oh, I know. I used to pray to God to make it all go away. I promised Him everything I could think of. My pastor always used to say that everything turns out for the best even when it doesn't look like it 'cause that's just God's plan, but when you're sixteen and alone, living with the guy who knocked you up…" She tips back her head, lets out a soft sigh. "He wasn't even my boyfriend. Never was. God, that's fucked up."

Marley doesn't say or do anything. She watches Quinn with those intense blue eyes. The movie plays, unwatched, in the background.

"I think that was part of the reason I kissed Rachel, actually," Quinn says without opening her eyes.

"Wait, what?"

Quinn laughs. "I'd had the baby and I'd given her up for adoption; I didn't know it was Shelby Corcoran who'd adopted her until much later. You know, she came to talk to me just after I'd given birth, and I thought she was a good person. God, I was so dumb. She wasn't actually concerned for me; she just saw the baby and decided she was her fresh start after she'd failed with Rachel."

"So I was pretty mad at everyone and everything. Rachel got mad too, when she found out what Shelby had done. We kinda bonded over that. And when I started having feelings for Rachel, I decided… well, God isn't listening to me anyway, so fuck it."

Marley shakes her head. "I never thought there would come a day I'd hear religious blasphemy used as a reason for both coming out, and an act of rebellion."

"Yeah, it would've been pretty ironic and messed up if Rachel and I had ended up together," says Quinn. "Thank God we didn't. She's a great friend, but she's kind of intense. And I'm not exactly very easy-going myself. We'd probably have murdered each other within a week."

"I like you just the way you are," says Marley loyally.

"Whatever you say." Quinn pauses and frowns. "Hey, I didn't mean to make this about me. I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine. It's tough sometimes, talking about me. I don't want anybody pitying me, you know?" Marley draws her knees up to her chin.

"I know exactly what you mean."

Marley smiles at her, rubbing the side of her neck. "I knew you'd understand."

Quinn rests her hand over Marley's. "Talk to me."

"Growing up, I can't remember the number of times I saw my mom crying because she couldn't afford to get me things. I had to learn not to want stuff. But then it got worse when I found out my mom wasn't crying because she couldn't spoil me, but because we didn't have enough to make ends meet. There was even one time we lost our house."

Quinn's eyes widen.

"Before Wichita Falls, we lived in this small town in Texas, where I was born. We were struggling real hard after my dad died but I was too young to remember any of it. I do remember, though, Mom crying hard and begging this guy not to throw us out of our home."

Her eyes are turning glassy. Quinn quickly scoots closer and wraps an arm around Marley's shoulder; she promptly rests her head on Quinn.

"Mom told me years later that my dad owed some people a lot of money, but we didn't find out until they came to the funeral to collect. Mom had to sell almost everything we owned to pay it off, and she couldn't make our rent on time. I don't remember much else after that except being hungry a whole lot."

Quinn presses her lips together as she tries not to cry. This simple thing explains so much about Marley; the reason why Marley loves food so much. Why she never turns anything down, for the fear it may not be there later when she needs it. Why she loves big and beautiful mansions, and dreams big yet practical dreams.

"Things started looking up when my mom got offered a job in Wichita Falls. We had to move, but she was so eager to get out of that town and make a fresh start. We didn't have much to pack anyway."

"I'm sorry."

Marley smiles weakly. "So… you see how it is. I love music, but I'm not willing to make a big gamble like that. I have responsibilities."

Quinn gives a wet chuckle. "You make me feel like a sheltered, spoiled brat. I'm not saying that's a bad thing," she interjects before Marley can say anything. "That's a very good thing."

"You don't need to know what it's like. You're going to _Yale_, for goodness' sake."

"No, that's just… you're so politically incorrect," says Quinn, exasperated.

Marley grins at her, then sticks her tongue out. "You know I'm right."

"I planned this road trip 'cause I wanted more interesting stories about my life. Stories that I could tell people and not feel them judge me.'" Quinn looks down at her hands. "So I could make a fresh start someplace."

"I wanted the same thing when I moved to Lima," says Marley, surprising Quinn. "I didn't wanna be the poor lunchlady kid all over again. You know, when I started high school, my mom sewed designer labels into my clothes so I wouldn't be picked on like in middle school. For my birthday, I'd pick something from a fashion magazine and she'd replicate it."

"That's really sweet." Quinn tries to remember an instance when her mom was doing something motherly – and didn't have a glass in her hand. "My mom and I used to do beauty pageants and debutante balls. We have a display case in the house full of tiaras."

"And that's… totally not weird at all."

Quinn laughs, a full belly laugh. "It really is."

"If you say so," responds Marley, shrugging exaggeratedly, grinning.

Quinn shakes her head. "My dad wants me to go to law school," she blurts out. Quinn wonders what it is about Marley Rose that makes Quinn want to open up. "It was part of the reason he let my mom talk him into paying my college tuition."

Marley regards her carefully. "Do _you_ wanna go to law school?"

"I don't know. I meant what I said the last time, when we were talking about majors; I do wanna major in English or literature, or something along those lines."

"But your dad might not continue paying your college tuition if you defy him," observes Marley.

Quinn nods. "I know I should do what I want. But I'm worried; what if he turns out to be right? What if I don't make it to grad school? What if I _do_ get into grad school, but I can't afford to pay for it? What if I end up jobless with a useless degree?"

From the way Marley's brow furrows, Quinn knows she appreciates how complex this dilemma is; something endlessly hopeful Rachel Berry could never do. "That's kinda the same reason I'm gonna major in business at NYU, not music."

"Yeah." A smile flickers over Quinn's face. "At least he can't kick me out a second time," she jokes weakly.

Marley shakes her head. "That's not funny." She turns her face, hiding it from view in Quinn's shoulder.

"Sorry. You're right. It's not funny." Her fingers find the end of Marley's braid and start twisting the ends around her fingers.

"I believe in you, Quinn. I know we've only barely started to get to know one another, but I don't see you failing to do anything you set your mind to." Marley sits up so she can look Quinn in the eye. "We're gonna be just fine, both of us."

"You're so ridiculously optimistic." But it's said with a smile.

"Hey, if you're down, there's nowhere else to go but up, right?" Marley pokes Quinn's cheek softly. "Enough serious talk for tonight, okay?" She leans over to restart the movie. "We're gonna watch _Elizabethtown_, and maybe later when I've lulled you into a false sense of security, you'll tell me your favorite movie."

"You wish," says Quinn, smiling. In spite of everything, some of her anxiety does ebb away… save for the strange certainty she feels whenever she thinks about Marley, and the future.

In the past, whenever she pictured her future self, she's content, living in a vaguely nice home with some faceless person. That's never worried Quinn before; dating hasn't been a major part of her life recently, because her chances of finding someone in Lima are virtually non-existent.

But the past few days have been full of Marley, and she's made herself a part of Quinn's life so seamlessly. Now, when Quinn tries to imagine her future, it's much more tangible; visiting New York, Marley waiting for her at Grand Central. Walking in the lush Yale campus, showing Marley around. She even sees them spending the rest of the summer together in Lima. And all of this doesn't scare Quinn at all.

It's alarming, how Marley's gone from an acquaintance to a part of everything within such a short span of time. And Quinn thinks…

… this crush she has? May not be just a crush anymore.

The realization is staggering.

She's never felt like this before. She never thought she could feel like this before, with someone who sees Quinn for who she is; no more, no less. The one who challenges her, pushes her out of her comfort zone with a smile. The one who seems to always understand and tolerate all her flaws, and to make her want to be better.

Quinn can see herself falling in love with a girl like Marley.

And the worst part?

She probably already has.

* * *

**End Notes: **The songs used in this chapter are _Falling Slowly_ by Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová from the movie **Once**, and _Send Me the Moon _by Sara Bareilles.


	11. Cincinnati, Ohio (?)

**Author's Notes: **Somehow, the delay in this new chapter gave it time to mushroom into an extra-long one, bless its heart. This latest installment is brought to you by **_Mike Ownby_**, who sifted through 3 drafts with me, pointed out horrible logical errors, and cleaned it up enough for me to think about actual plot. The extended author's notes can be found on my Tumblr at **yumi-michiyo**.

* * *

There is something… _different_, the next morning – although Quinn can't put her finger on it – and she's certain it's not just her. Marley is always so lively and bubbly and smiling, and today? Today, she's not. She's _smiling_, that's for sure. But there's something forced about it. Quinn would know. Quinn has forced plenty of smiles in her time. And if she didn't know better, she'd say that Marley's dawdling. Certainly, it explains why it takes longer to get to places than what Quinn's Maps app cheerfully predicts – even by Marley's standards.

But Quinn certainly isn't complaining.

Quinn wonders if Marley's just as unwilling to go home as she is. While she's not happy about it, she's mostly resigned to it now; coming to terms with uncomfortable truths is something she's been getting plenty of practice doing since embarking on this road trip (and letting Marley Rose in).

In any case, it would be presumptuous of her to say that she knows Marley well after – _close to two weeks_, thinks Quinn with a wince – when she's hardly in touch with her own feelings most of the time, for God's sake.

Now that they aren't taking the scenic route, the time it's taken them to get here from Nashville seems relatively short. Marley pulls over at a picturesque rest stop just outside of Indianapolis to switch over, bringing Quinn out of her rambling thoughts.

But instead of immediately getting behind the wheel, Quinn leans against the side of the car. Marley joins her shortly after.

"You're quiet," says Marley.

Quinn suppresses a faint snort of amusement. "I do remember telling you some time ago that I'm not the most talkative person."

"Neither am I, but _you're _being more quiet than usual."

"I don't think it's possible for me to be more quiet than I normally am," observes Quinn dryly. "I would have to be mute." To be fair, Marley _does _have a point; Quinn has noticed that she's talked more with Marley over the past two weeks than in four years of high school. But some things are still impossible, like telling her the truth – that _I'm being especially quiet because I did a lot of thinking last night and realized that I might be in love with you _– is too much, even for this new and improved Quinn.

Marley's lips twitch, clearly amused at the thought of Quinn being mute. "Good thing you're not," she says. "Mute, that is. I'd miss your voice."

"My voice, or the things I talk about?"

"Both," replies Marley with a nod. "You have a lovely voice; singing and otherwise."

The compliment makes her smile. "Rachel once told me I have a tremulous alto and a Belinda Carlisle glamor; I'm sure she'll be happy that someone else agrees with her," she says. Before Marley can respond, she hastily rushes out: "Anyway, I'm hardly in your league. You're an amazing singer, I hope you know that."

Marley pinks. "Thanks."

And there really isn't anything she can add to that, so they lapse into silence. The flavor of their silence has changed subtly over the days of the trip; when they're not talking now, it feels less oppressive and more natural, no longer a gap to be filled in with music and distractions. Quinn enjoys the solitude, looking over the hills in the distance, closing her eyes when the wind ruffles her hair. She's chosen to have her hair down today, her bangs braided out of her eyes.

She hears Marley humming softly to herself. Quinn glances over, and notices Marley has her camera in her hands. She isn't looking at it, though.

Marley smiles, seemingly unbothered by being caught looking at Quinn. "This is nice."

"Yeah," Quinn says. She returns the smile. "It is."

* * *

"I don't understand why you won't let me drive," grumbles Marley. "It's my turn. This was supposed to be a joint venture, remember?"

Quinn just pretends to ignore her, smiling faintly at Marley's expression. She can't very well say that she's not letting Marley drive because their next stop is a surprise, but keeping the other girl in the dark turns out to be more fun that she'd anticipated. "Maybe I like driving," says Quinn. "Maybe I realized I'm gonna miss my car when I'm in New Haven."

"You're a terrible liar," Marley scoffs. "But between the two of us, you're less likely to go down unmarked country roads, so I trust you. You have some surprise destination planned, don't you?"

Quinn purses her lips. So she's more transparent than a window; she can't help that, but at the very least they're almost there. "Good to know," she mumbles, pretending to be absorbed in the road ahead.

But in spite of all that, her surprise is spoilt when Marley spies the road sign for the turn-off and squeals. "I thought we skipped it!"

"Well," says Quinn mulishly, "we do need to go back up north to get home, it's kind of on the way, and you seemed awfully bummed we didn't go. So, surprise?" She's still slightly put-out that Marley figured it out so fast, but it seems insignificant in the face of Marley's excitement.

Marley scrambles out of the car the instant they're parked, and makes her way over to the driver's side. "You're sweet," she says; she glances left and right, making sure the coast is clear, before pecking Quinn on the cheek.

Quinn hums, trying not to look too pleased.

"Don't let it go to your head," Marley cautions playfully. She starts off towards the large shed housing the ball of paint, Quinn following closely. She leaves Marley to circle the giant ball, looking around for any information signage.

"Photo time," commands Marley, hands on her hips.

Quinn doesn't look up from the sign explaining the history of the giant paint ball. "Give me the camera, then."

"Not of me, silly; of _us_. I need to commemorate this moment." She motions for Quinn to join her in front of the ball.

Quinn blows out her bangs. "Seriously? It's too big to squeeze into a selfie. You won't be able to tell what it is."

"Quinn, surely the biggest ball of paint in the world speaks for itself." Marley gestures grandly at the massive ball behind her like she's Vanna White on the Wheel of Fortune TV show. "Think of how many years it took for this baby to reach its size."

"Oh, sure. That's because this one is in captivity; they don't get that big in the wild," says Quinn dryly.

Marley, who has picked the wrong moment to drink some water, chokes; Quinn smirks. "... You're not funny."

"_Au contraire_. You would've laughed if you hadn't been drinking." Quinn's smirk widens. "Also, I seem to recall a certain someone insisting that I was the funniest person in the galaxy…"

"I changed my mind. Your title is hereby rescinded." She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "I now think you were waiting for me to take a sip so you could kill me in retaliation for putting this on the itinerary." Marley bumps into Quinn's side, grinning at her. "Now hold still. If anything happens to me, the police will have a lovely selection of mugshots to put on your wanted posters."

She rolls her eyes. "If I actually wanted to kill you, it'll be a lot more subtle than choking on water. No one would ever find your body, for one."

Marley cackles. "C'mon then; give me your best serial killer smile," she says, and holds up the camera.

* * *

(Re-)Adding the giant ball of paint to their itinerary puts them about three hours' drive away from home, which unsettles Quinn a lot more than she's willing to put into words. Resigned as she is to reality, she's still not ready for this to end, and so Quinn stalls. "Hey," she says.

"Hmm?"

"How about we go to Cincinnati? I've always wanted to see what it's like there."

Marley shoots a quick, amused glance her way. "You've never been to Cincinnati?"

"I have, for Cheerios stuff. As a matter of fact, if not for Cheerios and Glee, I hardly ever get the chance to leave town. Apart from boba tea runs, but we go to Columbus for those."

"What did you wanna see in Cincinnati?"

Quinn is stymied. "Uh… what was that again?" she stalls, thumbs flying over her phone screen as she Googles Cincinnati on her phone. "Cincinnati chili. Yes. Santana said it was the best thing."

Marley laughs. "Going somewhere for food? And not a museum?"

"Why not?"

"But, by the time we reach Cincinnati, it'll be late," says Marley, frowning. "We won't be able to see anything, and anyway, we're due back home tonight."

She knows full well that their trip is already at an end; she's the one who planned the entire thing. But Quinn looks at Marley, focusing on the road, and she doesn't want any of it to end. But her problem now isn't that the trip is ending; it's telling Marley that.

She can be selfish. She _has _been selfish before. Quinn's no stranger to lying and manipulating people to get what she wants.

It's just down to her, now, whether she can do it to Marley.

But Marley saves her the decision by saying: "I'm okay with getting back a little later than planned, if you are; but I'll need to call my mom and check with her." She starts the engine and pulls out of the parking lot.

Quinn's heart soars. "You don't mind?"

"Nah. I've got nothing planned for the rest of the summer apart from working for my mom." Marley cocks her head to the side. "I need to save up as much as possible because I don't think l can get a job in New York before school starts, so I won't be heading out until the last minute."

Her plans sound so grown-up. Quinn is almost embarrassed by how immature hers are in comparison. "Oh. Cool."

"It's incredibly boring. What about you?"

Quinn shrugs. "I don't know. I need to plan for moving to New Haven, I guess. But I have to be there two weeks before the semester starts, because of orientation stuff, and I'm planning on pledging to a sorority."

"Hey, that's pretty cool." Marley sits up, eyes bright with interest. "Are you planning on ruling the world?"

"That's not what a sorority does, you dork." Quinn pauses. "My mom used to be in one when she was at college. She says it's great, having a bunch of sisters that always got your back." Her mom also picked up her drinking habits from her sorority sisters, but Quinn chooses not to mention that.

"Like Glee, but all girls."

Quinn smiles. "Yeah. Like Glee." She wonders at the strange fascination Marley has with the club. "Honestly, though, I'm not gonna miss everyone the same way."

Marley's expression changes. "Can I tell you something?"

"You know you can tell me anything," says Quinn, smiling when Marley grins at her.

"I really love everyone in Glee. Like, sometimes I want to smack Jake, and Santana still really scares me – and Rachel, for that matter – but… it's like a family, right? With squabbling brothers and sisters, and Mr Schue's like our dad." Her gaze drops to her hands, loosely clasped in her lap. "I know that's kinda weird, but… that's really how I feel."

Quinn realizes then that Marley's never really had a family outside her mom. "I… yeah. I guess so." On further reflection, she realizes that she's pretty much the same way, in that Glee has been more of a family to her than her real family has been. "Maybe I'm not as creepily obsessed with the family part as you are…" She laughs aloud when Marley scowls at her. "But, you're right. They're family. Sort of."

"You know, the main argument I had for not thinking of Glee as family is all the dating," says Marley. "It borders on creepily incestuous, at times." She frowns. "Was it that bad in freshman and sophomore years?"

"Worse," replies Quinn. "Yeah, don't get me started on that. It's as though we can't find anyone else to date outside of the choir room."

Marley laughs easily. "I can see why now, though. You're quite the catch." She playfully brushes her fingers through Quinn's hair. The touch, feather-light, tickles; yet, Quinn leans into it.

It makes her traitorous thoughts jump back to that pit of anxiety that lives in her stomach now; that everything they do, so simple now, won't be the same when they get back. "You're not so bad-looking yourself," quips Quinn, pushing away her unease.

"Mmhmm. Sure."

"Take it from me. Because if I'm quite the catch, as you put it, what does that say about you now that we're… together?"

And it's worth it, tentative and hesitantly-phrased as it was, because the smile on Marley's face can only be described as incandescent. "It says that I'm extremely lucky," says Marley, catching Quinn's hand in her own, rubbing her thumb over Quinn's knuckles. "But, Quinn? Can I tell you something?"

"Yeah?"

"I… I don't wanna go back either. Not just yet."

Quinn feels like she could laugh. "Really?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry," says Marley, looking contrite, clearly misinterpreting Quinn's relief as anger. "I just… this has been so wonderful, being here with you, and I'm not ready for any of this to end."

She feels… _relieved_. That at least one of them can be honest about their feelings. "No, don't be sorry. You're just the only one brave enough to say it out loud."

"… Oh." She sees hope flare in Marley's eyes. "I thought _you _wanted to go back."

"Marley, I'm definitely not in a hurry to go back. I wouldn't suggest _Cincinnati _if I were."

Marley snorts.

"Maybe I was, at the beginning of this trip, but not now." Quinn tangles their fingers together properly; partly as a gesture of reassurance, mostly because she finds holding Marley's hand to be a unique type of comfort. "This is nice. More than nice," she adds when she catches the amusement in Marley's expression.

"You know, one of the things I really like about you is how you're so remarkably expressive. Just what one expects from an Ivy League student," Marley quips, without any real malice.

Quinn smiles. She'll take it.

* * *

With the truth out, they've given up all pretence of sightseeing, and are checked into a cheap motel in Cincinnati.

"Your mom said it was okay?"

Marley shakes her head. "She didn't pick up the phone, but it probably means she's busy. She'll call me back when she can." She dumps her things in the corner and sprawls on the bed closest to the door without hesitation. "It doesn't matter, though; it's too late to go back to Lima by today"

Quinn, much less uninhibited, contemplates their sleeping arrangements. The receptionist had given them two beds without needing to be asked, something Quinn is grateful for. Thinking of sharing one bed with Marley – even though that's what they've been doing – makes her think of _sleeping together_, and it makes her face hot and her head spin.

"C'mon," says Marley, interrupting Quinn's thoughts. "Don't just stand there." She pats the mattress of the bed she's currently occupying, grinning widely.

Quinn slips off her shoes and sits down on the bed, folding her legs under her. Marley wraps her arms around Quinn's waist and tugs her down until she's lying flat.

"Hey!"

"No one sits on a bed, for goodness' sake," Marley grumbles, smirking at Quinn.

Quinn scowls. "You didn't have to tackle me down, Quarterback."

Marley furrows her brow. "Wow, you're grumpy." She straightens up when her phone rings. "Shoot, sorry, I should take this, it's probably my mom. She's got great timing." Marley shoots Quinn a quick smile on her way outside.

Quinn stares at the ceiling, contemplating the cheap plaster; now she doesn't have the distractions of traveling and sightseeing and being busy, her thoughts are free to revolve around Marley. She already regrets being short with Marley. Quinn doesn't really understand why she has to prolong this trip, when they can just go back home. They'll have personal space, more things to do. Privacy that they don't have to pay for.

But she's selfish. She always has been. And while she has the power to do so, she wants Marley all to herself for as long as possible, in this bubble away from the real world. In a town where no one knows them (or worse, her father) and no one's going to talk behind their backs. As long as they're on their road trip, college is one whole step further away.

A small part of her wonders if Marley will turn and run the moment they're back. The moment they're not obligated to stick together. Quinn knows it's highly unlikely, but it's still a valid thought, as much as it stings, and she's okay with that. She's selfish, and she doesn't have to be sensible and rational for another day, at least.

The door clicks open. "Hey, you." Marley flops back on the bed (and Quinn's legs).

"What did she say?" Quinn asks, trying to sound as agreeable as possible.

"My mom said she's okay with us extending the trip, but I have to be home by Monday," says Marley regretfully. "She's booked a big catering job and she was counting on me being home to help."

"Oh." It's Friday night, and they have the whole weekend; it's better than what Quinn was expecting. But… even as selfish as she is, despite everything that's gone through her mind, she can't bring herself to take advantage of what Marley's offering her. "Uh, but your mom needs help. We should get back."

"We?"

Quinn flushes dull red. "It's only a weekend; besides, I remember someone promising me a summer catering gig…" She clears her throat self-consciously. "I don't have anything better to do in Lima anyway. I wouldn't mind helping you and your mom, if you needed me to."

Marley just stares at her. Then Quinn's vision is obscured by brown hair as Marley launches herself into Quinn's arms.

"You're so – Quinn, I can't believe how wonderful you are," Marley gushes. "I love you. I'm gonna – I need to call my mom back and tell her, gimme a sec." She ducks back outside, already punching on her phone screen, oblivious to how Quinn is staring blankly after her.

It's probably fortunate – for Quinn and her jangled nerves – that Marley doesn't notice the state she left Quinn in. _She probably doesn't mean it_, comes Quinn's first thoughts. _Heck, she probably won't remember saying it_. But Quinn heard it, and just the memory of it makes her stomach roil, in a way that's neither pleasant nor painful.

In hindsight, given that this is the complete opposite of what Quinn wanted at the beginning of the trip, this isn't ideal, but Quinn couldn't care less.

A part of her still regrets even letting Marley in in the first place, even though another part of her, very contradictorily, wouldn't trade it for anything. That same part of her that is currently turning cartwheels, because that unrequited love suddenly isn't very unrequited anymore, in spite of Quinn's last ounce of common sense.

But then – a thought washes over her like a cold shower: there's no point to holding onto things that leave her eventually.

Quinn struggles to keep those unpleasant thoughts imprisoned, and not spilling out into her interactions with Marley. The other girl deserves everything good and wonderful, and Quinn knows that even on her good days, she doesn't always fit into those categories.

It dawns on Quinn, then, that she has no idea how to be alone with Marley. There's always been something else, things to do, places to go, food to eat. Anything and everything else to talk about. So far, she has no idea how to act like a normal human being with Marley; and by normal human being, she means _not spilling some traumatic childhood secret/fucked-up thing about herself_.

What do normal people with regular family lives talk about anyway? With Rachel, most of the time Quinn listens when Rachel talks. It goes both ways, of course, and Rachel is an attentive listener, but Rachel definitely talks more than she listens, and Quinn's okay with that. Santana's never been one for talking in case it leads to feelings – very much like Quinn. And Brittany… well, Quinn has yet to have a perfectly lucid conversation with Brittany lasting more than ten minutes but she doesn't care.

She's run out of friends to compare herself to. Quinn doesn't know how to feel about it.

Marley inadvertently announces her return with a clatter. "Mom told me to thank you," she tells Quinn jubilantly, "and that she'll cook you a feast, no holds barred, when we get back."

"That's not necessary," says Quinn. She's uncomfortable, as always, by any outpouring of gratitude that's directed towards her.

"And she wanted me to give you _this_." Marley throws her arms around Quinn, squeezing her exaggeratedly. "This is from me, though." She kisses Quinn deeply.

"For a moment there, I thought your mom asked you to kiss me," says Quinn, still dazed.

"Eww. Gross. Thanks for that mental image, I really wanted it."

"No problem."

Nevertheless, Marley doesn't let go of Quinn. And Quinn isn't in a hurry to push her off, either.

"Hey, um." Quinn clears her throat, aware that she's flushing red. "My favorite movie is _Crossroads_."

It takes a beat. Marley frowns. "I don't know that movie. Should I?"

"It's the one with Britney Spears," Quinn confesses. She can feel her face burn so hot, like she's about to spontaneously combust. _Normal human beings talk about movies that they like_, she reminds herself.

"Oh. Ohhhh." Marley's frown deepens. "Okay? Is that supposed to be something embarrassing? I don't know what the movie's about."

Quinn scowls. "I don't… don't make me explain it."

Marley turns to meet Quinn's gaze. "Why not? It's your favorite movie; why wouldn't you wanna tell me about it?"

The question is innocuous, and makes perfect sense. The answer, of course, is because Quinn's been mocked for liking things that others didn't in the past, and she's also a fucking coward. This is Marley, possibly one of two people in the world who will never judge Quinn (three, if she counts Brittany. But Brittany doesn't have a judgemental bone in her body).

Quinn sighs. "_Crossroads _is this cheesy teen movie about growing up and things. I like it because… the three girls in the movie? They're all me. The girl with an overbearing dad, the girl who gets pregnant, and the girl who just wants to find someone who loves her. All of them desperate to get out of their small town." Her lips twitch. "And then they go on a road trip."

Marley bursts into laughter.

"I wasn't being entirely honest with you about wanting some life experiences before Yale. Like yes, but I was also hoping that something might happen on the trip, some revelation about myself." She waves a hand before her, as though brushing away the idea. "A bit silly, I know."

"Well, something _did _happen," says Marley, looking sheepish, and squeezes Quinn's hand. "I don't know if it was something you _wanted_, but…"

Quinn squeezes back. "It's more than I expected. Better."

Marley smiles, starry-eyed. "Good. I mean – this is gonna sound really dramatic, but I think I'd die if you didn't feel the same way."

"That doesn't _sound_ dramatic. It _is _dramatic," Quinn snorts. Her stomach flutters.

"I did warn you." Marley puts her cheek on Quinn's shoulder. "Now that we've gotten that out of the way… What's gonna happen when we get back?"

The bottom drops out of Quinn's stomach. "We'll spend the rest of the summer in Lima," she says, voice deliberately even. "We'll still hang out."

"I don't wanna go back to a world where you aren't the last thing I see before falling asleep, and the first thing I see in the morning," says Marley bluntly.

And she's never been good at putting what she feels into words, especially not now when the inside of her head is such a mess, but Quinn knows she has to try this one time. "I'm not thinking about it that way. We still have the rest of the summer. We'll be going to colleges eighty-three miles apart; it's not _goodbye_, but _see you later_."

Marley just stares at her as though Quinn hung the moon and stars; just as Quinn starts to fidget, uncomfortable with the attention, Marley presses a soft, lingering kiss to her cheek. "You're such a poet sometimes."

"I try."

* * *

Quinn doesn't know how she's going to drag out a hundred and twenty-six miles (according to Google) unless they get out of the car and walk. The idea makes her snort in amusement.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," says Quinn, shaking her head. "Just… wondering how we can drag out the drive home. Maybe we should find some unmarked roads to follow."

"Quinn!" Marley's laugh ripples through the air. "I don't wanna end up a horror movie victim. Or the murder victim in those cheesy campfire murderer stories."

"Those aren't real. Those are cautionary tales to scare people."

Marley waves her off. "We could do this the logical way," she says, as though Quinn hasn't spoken.

"Which would be?"

Marley turns her head, and Quinn finds herself looking into intense blue eyes. "Driving straight home, unpacking our things, and meeting up again somewhere."

"_Or_," replies Quinn, trying not to entertain the thoughts Marley is making her think of, "we could take those unmarked country roads I've heard so much about..."

"_Or_, you could let me drive."

Quinn laughs. "Are you admitting to being a slow driver?"

"Like I said, I really don't want this to end," replies Marley softly. Her gaze is redirected out the window behind Quinn's head as she pretends to be interested in the view outside.

"Oh." She wasn't expecting the conversation to take an emotional turn. Under normal circumstances, Quinn would've brushed it off; a week ago, she might have stayed silent. But now, she is different. Her feelings – all the more powerful for being acknowledged and accepted – lend her strength. Quinn reaches across the center console of her car, resting her hand on Marley's knee and squeezing until she retrieves Marley's full attention. "Or… we could find some places to stop by along the way."

Quinn knows she's doing it again; the whole _being selfish_ vs. _not being selfish _thing. It practically gives her whiplash with how quickly she changes her mind. Quinn chews on her lip contemplatively.

But surely she's allowed this small thing? Surely it's okay for her to reach out with both hands and take what she wants, when it's clear that Marley wants the same thing?

* * *

A pang of annoyance, tempered by anxiety, flares up when Quinn recognizes the town of Dayton. She knows Dayton is halfway between Cincinnati and Lima – meaning they're halfway home. She sighs, putting her chin on her hand.

The butterflies in her stomach intensify with every mile that flies past the window, every minute they come closer to the end. It doesn't ease up, despite how many times her logical brain presents the facts; white noise buzzing incessantly inside her skull, like angry hornets wanting to break free –

Marley's voice breaks through her thoughts. "Hey," she says, "are you alright? You looked a little overwhelmed for a second back there."

Quinn wonders what all these feelings have done to her; she hasn't stopped using her words, and now she's actively sharing how vulnerable she's feeling. "Just… thinking about college," she says, forcing a smile.

"Okay." Marley's attention goes back to the road when the traffic lights change, and she thankfully doesn't question further.

Quinn knows better than to be surprised when she sees the same sign over again. "We're going somewhere?"

"It's a surprise," says Marley, in the same dry tone Quinn recognizes from yesterday.

"For me or for you?"

"Why can't it be both?"

Quinn shakes her head. "The Boonshoft Museum of Discovery," she reads off the next sign they pass. "That sounds more up your alley than mine."

"Okay, fine."

Quinn waits until Marley's parked the car, and they're crossing the lot to the entrance before she nudges Marley's side. "Thanks." She hopes that Marley doesn't need her to articulate what she means by that.

"You're welcome, Fabray," says Marley lightly.

"How'd you find this place, anyway?"

Marley shrugs. "Saw a brochure in the motel lobby in Cincinnati," she says. "I saw the words Museum and Discovery and decided it was perfect."

"So it had nothing to do with the fact that this place also has fossils, dinosaurs, and otters?"

It quickly becomes apparent that Marley had no idea so many of her favorite things were present; her growing excitement reminds Quinn of the first day of the trip, of the first time she'd come face to face with Marley's childlike excitement. "You're joking," she says, reaching for Quinn's hand.

"I'm not."

"How'd you know?" she demands.

Quinn arches an eyebrow and points at the various posters, banners, and billboards around the parking lot which advertise the museum's attractions. Otters and dinosaurs smile at them from the signage.

"Oh," says Marley a little sheepishly.

Quinn presses her lips together, trying not to laugh.

"What are we waiting for, then?"

* * *

Seeing the **Welcome to Lima** sign at the town boundaries causes Quinn a pang of nostalgia; she knows she'll stop seeing it as such in the years to come, but right now in her current frame of mind, it represents so much of the formative years of her life.

Perhaps it was no coincidence that their last stop on their road trip was someplace that holds so much for them both; planets and otters and fishes in aquariums. Dinosaurs, fossils, and T-shirts with cheesy slogans. It seemed appropriate, somehow, that they would buy each other trinkets; a shirt that features a picture of Saturn and the legend _Put a Ring on It _for Quinn ("You need a cheesy shirt of your own to match my Michigan U shirt, Quinn"), and a magnet with an otter on it for Marley. It feels like they've come full circle.

She pulls up outside Marley's house. It echoes the same scene from when they started, except the late afternoon sun paints everything in reddish hues, and Marley seems much less enthusiastic.

"So… I guess this is it," says Quinn, around the lump in her throat.

A muscle pulses in Marley's jaw. "I guess," she replies, shouldering her duffle bag. "Thanks for dropping me off."

They both crack grins at the inanity of that, but sober shortly after. "You're sure you don't need any help?" Quinn presses. "I can go home, get changed, and come back."

Marley shakes her head. "Nah. Mom wasn't expecting us to be back today, so she hasn't got anything for either of us to do until Monday."

"Oh."

Marley winks. "See you later?"

"See you later, Marley." She expects Marley to kiss her, but instead, Marley gives her a tight little smile and walks into her house. Quinn tamps down the pang of disappointment. They're in Lima, now; they're not in their bubble anymore.

* * *

The Fabray home is vacant and smells of dust. Quinn knows her mom won't be back for another couple of weeks, and that leaves her free rein of the house.

She fishes for the silver key out of the bowl in the hallway, and goes up the stairs to a room normally locked tight.

Russell Fabray's study has been locked since its owner moved out. It looks just the same as Quinn remembers, being a small girl sneaking into the room, older but intensely curious to whatever kept her daddy inside. There was a time she was unashamedly a daddy's girl.

The records sit on their shelves. They are meticulously filed in alphabetical order of the artists' names, filling two large oak bookcases. At random, Quinn pulls out a copy of The Four Seasons' _Chameleon_, blows off the dust, and lays it on her father's old desk. She is surprised he even has a copy, given his ideas of what constitutes _good music_.

Now that Quinn thinks of it, the list of things Russell considered "bad" included a lot more than the mistakes she's made – and gives her the sneaking suspicion that even if she hadn't gotten pregnant, he would have found something wrong with her eventually.

The silence is oppressive and deafening. She needs to fill that void with something, anything. Ideally, something that won't remind her of Marley. Already, she misses her comfortable silences.

Quinn goes back to the kitchen to make herself a drink before she puts the record on. Perhaps it's a little early to be raiding her mom's alcohol stash, but Quinn doesn't care.

She frowns. Maybe she's still adjusting to the silence, but it sounds like there's someone at the door.

There it is again. The knocking. Quinn frowns. She isn't expecting visitors, but it seems like she has one anyway. She pads to the door and opens it without checking the peep hole, fully intent on chasing whoever is on the other side away .

"Hey!"

Quinn blinks, surprised. She wasn't expecting Marley Rose to be on her doorstep, a couple of hours after parting ways. "Marley?"

"I should've called or texted, but I had to go do something for my mom, and I figured I'd just drop by and see if you were home," she says. Her expression changes abruptly. "Shoot, or maybe you'd be home but you'd be busy. I hadn't figured that. Sorry, I clearly didn't think this through."

"When you said _see you later_, I didn't expect you to take it so literally," jokes Quinn.

"Yeah, I know. I was just… I missed having you around." Marley sticks her hands in her pockets, looking embarrassed.

It's impossible to say no to Marley, especially now, when Quinn agrees whole-heartedly with her. "I'm not doing anything right now," she confirms. Then, her manners kick in. "Would you like to come in? I was just about to have a drink and go listen to my dad's record collection."

Marley perks up. "I would love to. Come in and listen to the records both. Hey, you said you were gonna let me listen to them, didn't you?"

"No, you kinda invited yourself to listen to them," Quinn teases. She leads the way into the kitchen, fetching another glass from the cupboard. "Do you want wine, or something more kid-friendly?"

"Har har." Marley wrinkles her nose at the glass of red wine Quinn's already poured for herself. "Do you have juice or something like that?"

"Luckily for you, yes." She retrieves a bottle of orange juice from the fridge and pours some for Marley, who accepts it with a grateful smile.

"Why do you even drink alcohol?" Marley grumbles. "It tastes terrible."

Quinn shrugs. "Beer's an acquired taste from years of parties. Wine always makes me feel like I'm a grown-up."

"We're going to college. Can't get any more grown-up than that."

"Point."

Just when Quinn's about to tell Marley to follow her upstairs, Marley moves around the kitchen counter and closes the distance between them.

Her lips taste of orange juice.

"It feels like forever since I last kissed you," says Marley, blushing a little. She cups Quinn's cheek, smiling softly at her. "I've missed kissing you. In case you couldn't tell."

Quinn can't resist a smug, "No wonder you came over," before she kisses Marley again, her hands resting on Marley's waist, fingers catching in the soft fabric of Marley's T-shirt.

"I came over for other reasons too," Marley protests, but it's hard to believe her when her voice is muffled because she has her face buried in Quinn's neck.

Quinn laughs. "Sure you did," she says. She lifts her arms, lightly squeezes Marley's waist, before withdrawing her arms. "I'm all sticky," she says apologetically. "I haven't showered yet."

"It's summer. It can't be helped."

She pushes the frosty glass into Marley's hand. "Yes, it can. I'm gonna go turn on the fan."

"Oh, yay! We can watch movies too, right?" She nudges Quinn. "I can watch _Crossroads_!"

"How long were you planning on staying?" Quinn asks lightly.

Marley grins sheepishly. "Until you kick me out? We could have a sleepover."

"Marley, we just got back from a road trip. Which is kind of an extended sleepover."

"Yeah, but I miss that. I miss you."

"You can't miss me if I don't go away." She tries for levity, even though she knows that's not what Marley means. Maybe if she wasn't so stupidly closed-off, she'd be spending every last bit of her summer with Marley. Or maybe even telling her all the things she's been wanting to say like _thank you _and _I love you_.

Marley sighs. "Summer'll be over before we know it, and we'll be headed to different places. There'll be plenty of time to miss you then."

Quinn nods, throat tight. She's not immature enough to deny that's happening (though she's still allowed to wish for it). Change is part of life and growing up. College is a good thing. She just wishes she hadn't found this other good thing before college is happening. Quinn hates being forced to choose. "Come over tomorrow morning," she says, watching the corners of Marley's mouth turn up.

"Okay – wait. You aren't asking me to stay?" Marley's smile evaporates, replaced by her best childish _I'm-a-small-kid-who's-being-denied-candy_ pout.

"Not tonight," laughs Quinn. "I'm sure your mom's missed you. But we can spend the whole day together tomorrow, I haven't got any other plans. We'll watch _Crossroads _then."

Guilt mixes with Marley's expression, but the pout doesn't disappear. "Fabray, you shouldn't be allowed to use my mom against me," huffs Marley.

"You shouldn't make it so easy, then," replies Quinn.

* * *

The next morning, Marley shows up on Quinn's doorstep, a large brown paper bag clutched in each arm, wearing her biggest smile. She's wearing her Michigan U T-shirt, much to Quinn's mixed embarrassment and fondness.

Quinn knows better than to ask _why_, and goes straight to the _what_. "How long are you planning on staying this time?" she asks teasingly, leaning against her door, folding her arms across her chest.

Marley smiles sheepishly. "As long as you'll have me, ideally. I brought some things, they're in the car."

"Things? You're staying over tonight? Don't we have to help your mom tomorrow?"

"I've got it all planned out," says Marley confidently. "We're spending the whole day together. I'll stay over, and then we can head back to my house early tomorrow morning to start the prep work."

Quinn nods. "That would work, but wouldn't it make more sense if I stayed over at your house?"

Marley suddenly looks uncomfortable. "Well… we could, but I'm already here, and I've already brought my stuff," she says. "There's no need to make you go over to mine."

Something tells her that's not the only reason Marley has, but Quinn lets it go. She has other things on her mind, after all, and more than her fair share of secrets. Quinn clears her throat to distract herself from the awkward end her internal thoughts have stuttered to. "I've missed spending time with you, too. Is it too soon to say that?"

Marley beams, all tension gone. "You're cute, so certainly not. It makes me feel better about being so needy." Beaming, Marley fumbles with the bags she's carrying so she can kiss Quinn's temple. She's wearing her sneakers while Quinn is barefoot, meaning their slight height difference is exaggerated. "Help me bring these bags in? There're a couple more in the car."

"What on Earth did you bring? The grocery store?" Quinn takes the bags into her kitchen and then follows Marley out to the old Honda parked in front of the house.

"Ha ha. No, it wouldn't have fit into the car. I brought ingredients for donuts! I thought making them could be something fun for us to spend the day doing." She extracts another bag from the car, passing it to Quinn. "I remember offering to teach you, and there's no better time than now."

Quinn remembers that too – albeit with a much more appealing mental image attached. She grins sheepishly when it sinks in that it's about to become reality.

"And how do I know you're not just gonna eat them all yourself? I've seen you with my gummy bears. Is this just an excuse for making donuts?" _Or inviting yourself over again_, thinks Quinn, without any heat.

"Would it be so bad if any of those were true?" Marley grins.

"I guess not."

She should've known she can't lie to Marley. "Glad to hear that. Now, help me unpack everything." She fishes a folded piece of notepad paper out of her pocket and lays it flat on the counter. "That's the recipe. Help me find the flour. I forgot which bag I packed it in."

"Marley, you could've called me. I could've gone grocery shopping with you. You didn't need to lug all this by yourself."

"I wanted to surprise you! Are you surprised?"

Marley's expression falters a little; before it can crumple completely, Quinn says, "Very," and smiles.

Marley beams back, before returning to her work. "You could make these when you pledge for a sorority. They'd all be falling over themselves to take you in."

Quinn wrinkles her nose at the idea. "Marley, the sororities at Yale wouldn't do anything as undignified as that."

"Wait 'til you taste these donuts, then you'll change your tune." She emerges, triumphant, with a large bag of flour. "Yes! Okay, we need to find the yeast."

Despite herself, Quinn busies herself with unpacking the bag closest to her; Marley sends a wide smile her way.

"Why did you buy all this stuff? You could've called to ask what I already have so you didn't need to spend that much."

"Quinn, my mom'll be running a catering business all summer. She'll be happy to use up whatever leftovers we have. And like I said, I didn't wanna bother you, this was supposed to be a surprise." Marley puts down the box of yeast she was squinting at and walks over to Quinn. "Is everything okay?"

_Everything is decidedly not okay_, thinks Quinn. She's already struggling with leaving all of this behind, and adding Marley to that; and then Marley had to go and mention college as though Quinn needed the reminder that their summer together is coming to an end. Her stomach weighs heavy with unexpressed feelings. "I'm fine."

Marley takes Quinn's hand in her own. The other hand drums restlessly on the counter. "You sure?"

And now she is torn. She could divulge what she's feeling, and possibly ruin everything Marley planned for today. Quinn knows Marley wouldn't give it a second thought, because that's how she is, but pricks of guilt already eat at Quinn. Or she could lie and say everything's fine, risking Marley's feelings being hurt that Quinn isn't opening up to her.

She walks the middle path. Quinn gathers up both of Marley's hands and squeezes. "Honestly, I'm thinking about how much I'm gonna miss you when we're at college."

"Oh."

Quinn gives Marley's hands a little shake to recapture her attention. "But I'm not gonna dwell on that. You put so much effort into today, and I want to enjoy it with you."

Marley gives her a warm smile. "Good to hear. Hey, Quinn? Do you wanna kiss me? Wrong answers only." She raises an eyebrow playfully.

Quinn rolls her eyes. "I would never kiss you, idiot," she says, then leans in. The idiot is still laughing even as she kisses Quinn back enthusiastically.

"Your donuts," Quinn reminds her, stepping away from Marley, going back to unpacking the bags. There are a lot more groceries than she thought would be needed for donuts, and – perplexingly – items that don't belong at all. "Why did you buy lettuce? What kind of donuts are you making?" she asks, holding it up.

"I didn't just buy the ingredients for donuts," huffs Marley. "I bought stuff for my mom too." She reaches for the head of lettuce, plucking it from Quinn's hands, and sets it on the counter.

"Give me the receipt."

She fishes a folded receipt from her pocket and hands it to Quinn, who pins it to the fridge with a magnet. "Here. I'll pay you back for the donut ingredients later. Now, donuts."

Marley nods, consulting the recipe to sort the wet and dry ingredients, arranging them neatly. "Could I borrow a mixing bowl and a small saucepan?"

Quinn fetches the saucepan easily enough but has to dig the bowl from the back of the cupboard. She can't remember the last time it was used. "What next, chef?"

Marley giggles. "I could get used to this. I need to activate the yeast, so could you get the dry ingredients ready?" She measures milk into the saucepan and puts it on the stove.

Quinn complies. She raises an eyebrow at the items on the recipe. "Am I reading this right? Pumpkin spice and grated nutmeg?"

"Mom's secret ingredients. Don't blab it around town and we're good." She stirs the milk.

"Huh. I'm taking your word for it." Quinn runs her spoon through the dry ingredients, focusing on thoroughly combining them without spilling any of the mixture. It smells wonderful already; she can't imagine how good the donuts will be.

"Mmm, that smells great."

"It's the pumpkin spice." The aroma makes Quinn think of Starbucks' pumpkin spice lattes.

"Maybe we should make lattes with it, to go with the donuts."

Quinn laughs. "I was just thinking about pumpkin spice lattes!"

"Sounds like a plan, then." Marley checks her phone. "Oops, time for the egg and vanilla. I'm almost ready for you now," Marley calls. The kitchen smells of vanilla now, and it whets Quinn's appetite. "Do you wanna do the dough?"

"I'll let the chef handle it," Quinn teases her. Marley sticks out her tongue but moves over to Quinn's bowl of dry ingredients, gradually pouring the contents of her bowl inside and stirring. Quinn watches as the slurry gradually becomes a sticky dough.

While Marley is occupied, Quinn sets out the butter as per the recipe and clears a space on the kitchen table, liberally dusting the surface with flour.

Marley empties out the dough on the floured table, digging her hands into it and kneading vigorously. "I've missed this," she says.

"Baking?"

"Baking for myself," she clarifies. "Baking for my mom's customers is different, 'cause it's a job and I don't know those people. But I know I'm gonna enjoy this at the end of the day because it's not just for me, but people I care about."

"Oh."

Marley huffs as a lock of hair falls out of her ponytail and into her face. Quinn brushes it away; the light contact of her fingertips on Marley's skin elicits a small shiver. Marley looks at her through her lashes, her eyes dark with what Quinn recognizes as desire.

She flushes. She runs her hands distractedly through her own hair, clearing her throat.

"That should do it," announces Marley, turning over the dough. "We need to leave it to rise now." She fetches the mixing bowl, dropping the dough inside. Producing a box of cling wrap from one of her grocery bags, Marley covers the dough and puts it to one side.

"How long should it rest?"

"About an hour or so; it's pretty warm today." Marley wipes her face with the sleeve of her shirt. "What do you propose we do to pass the time?"

"I'm sure you can think of a few things."

Marley smirks back, and Quinn wishes she hadn't been so cocky. "I can think of a few things; but I'm wondering if we're on the same page."

Quinn beats her to it first. Marley's lips part as she exhales, surprised by the kiss. Quinn presses closer, savoring the taste of the other girl's mouth.

But Marley is quick to reciprocate. She angles their mouths together, her hands gripping Quinn's hips for leverage. "Oh, shit."

"What?" Quinn glances down, noticing damp handprints on her shorts. "Oh."

"I'm sorry," says Marley. "I forgot to wash my hands, and – shoot, it's on your face too."

Quinn shakes her head. "Washing machines exist," she says, snatching up a dish towel and thrusting it into Marley's hands. "Now, we were doing something else." Her touch leaves a floury handprint on Marley's dark blue T-shirt, but she doesn't care.

There's something thrilling about kissing a girl in her kitchen, even though Quinn knows they have the whole place to themselves. It's the excitement of doing something _bad_, combined with the fear of losing this when summer ends, that drives Quinn onward. She takes control of the kiss, hands on Marley's forearms, nipping at Marley's lower lip.

Marley moans.

Quinn steps forward. Her body arches against Marley's. She presses Marley's forearms back as far as they will go – the kitchen counter, which isn't very far away in the first place – and pins them there. She directs her kisses to Marley's neck, more teeth than lips, feeling Marley squirm.

"Oh." Marley's hands are still on Quinn, but they're no longer guiding her; they're holding on desperately, clinging to Quinn like she's the last rock in a stormy sea. "_Oh_."

Quinn strokes the insides of Marley's wrists with her thumbs. "Do you trust me?"

"_Yes_," is the immediate answer. Then Marley squeaks as Quinn lets go of her arms, grabs her hips, and hoists her onto the counter, stepping into the space she formerly occupied.

"God, you're strong."

"Athlete," breathes Quinn. The rest of her words – and her ability to speak, really – are lost when Marley's legs wrap around her waist, drawing her closer. It has the side effect of sending her pulse racing. Her hands linger on Marley's thighs, now serving to keep her upright because her knees feel like they could give way anytime.

Their lips meet again. This time, the height difference is exaggerated, and Quinn can taste Marley's smile as she leans over Quinn, her arms draped around her shoulders.

"I like this," she murmurs in between butterfly kisses.

"I thought you might."

Marley grins. "You're cocky." She twists a lock of blonde hair around her finger, tugging until Quinn moves closer. "It's a good look on you."

And Quinn, who has been trying very hard to keep that – _facet_, of her attraction to Marley under control, suddenly finds breathing difficult. She responds by kissing the knuckle of Marley's hand, biting back a smirk when the fingers let her hair slip through.

Even though Marley's not very much taller than she is, sitting on the counter puts her chest at Quinn's eye level – a temptation that she didn't think through at the beginning, but is grateful for now.

Marley – ever sharp when it comes to Quinn – notices, and laughs softly. "You're terrible," she says, without real rebuke.

Quinn doesn't trust herself to answer verbally. She tugs Marley's mouth back down to hers, kissing her breathless. One of her hands, however, goes to the small of Marley's back, rubbing over her shirt. The other remains on her thigh, but it's not idle; she rubs the heel of her hand up and down the exposed skin (she is very glad that Marley's wearing shorts).

There's a newfound ferocity to Marley's kisses now. Quinn's inclined to think it's because of her.

Marley takes Quinn's lip between her teeth and tugs. Quinn hisses. Her hands flex on Quinn's shoulders. "You can."

"Huh?"

Marley puts some space between their mouths. "You can touch me," she clarifies, sounding like she's run a marathon.

"Bwuh?" says Quinn, very eloquently.

Marley giggles softly. She reaches around her for Quinn's hand, and then pushes it under her shirt.

Quinn's face burns. She's touching soft, heated skin. She moves her hand, fingernails lightly scratching; Marley groans and shifts, but she doesn't shy from Quinn's touch.

Emboldened, Quinn runs her hand back and forth in wider, more sweeping strokes. She alternates pressure with barely-there touches, her heart hammering in her ears, always aware of Marley's reactions.

In contrast to the fevered pace her hands are setting, she kisses Marley unhurriedly; light, chaste kisses and soft pecks. And in contrast to Quinn's pace, Marley is eager, passionate. Her heels dig into the backs of Quinn's legs, somehow closer in spite of the summer heat and physical constraints. "More," she murmurs.

Quinn has always been eager to please. Her right hand (the one under Marley's shirt) inches upwards until it finds elastic. Her sharp intake of breath doesn't go unnoticed.

Marley's head sinks forward, forehead resting on Quinn's shoulder. Hot breath patters on the skin Quinn's T-shirt doesn't cover, before an equally hot tongue laves over the junction between neck and shoulder.

Quinn bares her teeth in a quick grin. Her hand slides upward, over Marley's bra strap, and then glides down, skating over skin, sinuously weaving to touch as much of it as she can. Quinn's shoulder vibrates from the answering groan Marley presses into it.

Then Marley's phone goes off.

From the way Marley stiffens, then slumps with a groan, Quinn realizes that it's just the timer she set earlier for the dough. Marley's disappointment is amusing enough to make Quinn forget her own, and she withdraws her hands. "The dough," she reminds Marley.

Marley grunts in frustration. "Damn."

Quinn shakes her head. She steps away, already missing the other girl, and tugs on Marley's elbows to help her off the counter. She has never been so glad for having the entire house to herself before. She makes a mental note to clean the kitchen thoroughly before her mom gets back, but she knows she'll never be able to look at the kitchen countertops the same way.

Marley, still red in the face and straightening her mussed hair, glances at the dough. "Okay, it's ready." She crosses over to the sink to scrub her hands, followed closely by Quinn.

"What's next?"

"Cutting out the donuts." Marley dumps the dough back out on the floured table. "Wanna do the honors?"

"Fine. You _did _knead it earlier." Quinn grabs the rolling pin and starts rolling out the dough. "How thick should it be?"

"Quarter inch."

Quinn nods. She concentrates on the dough, dusting it with flour occasionally. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Marley taking her phone out – and pointing it at her.

"Marley!"

"What?" says Marley, faux-innocent. "I want to remember this."

"I look a fright." She can picture how she looks; hair coming out of its bun and plastered to her face, spots of flour and dough all over her clothes. That doesn't even take into account how disheveled she must be after their heated make-out session.

"No, you're beautiful."

She flushes. "Let me see." Quinn puts down the rolling pin and walks over to Marley, who darts away, laughing.

"No!"

"Hey, no fair!" Quinn tosses a pinch of flour at Marley, who squeals in outrage. "Delete it!"

"Make me!"

"Is that a challenge?" Laughing, Quinn chases Marley around the kitchen table, playfully feinting left and right. She's the superior athlete, however, and ends the pursuit with a lightning-quick dart around the table, throwing her arms around Marley's waist. "Gotcha."

"How did you – never mind."

"I barely worked up a sweat doing cheerleading stunts. This was nothing." Neatly plucking the phone from Marley's hand, she deletes the offending photo, wiping the phone and her hands on a dishtowel afterwards. "Done."

"You're horrible." Marley extracts herself from Quinn's arms, pouting outrageously. "Go back to your donuts, I'm hungry."

"Don't you need to get the oil ready?"

"Nah, they need to be chilled for a while before frying. They're really sticky now, they'll be easier to handle when they're cold."

Quinn nods. The instant she turns her back, however, she feels the splash of something cold on her cheek. She shrieks.

Marley turns off the tap, smirking proudly. "That was for the flour," she says. "Honestly, I would've never thought you'd be childish enough to play with your food."

Quinn narrows her eyes. "Don't push your luck, Rose." She bends to wipe her face exaggeratedly on Marley's sleeve; the other girl squawks indignantly, but lets her.

"Donuts," orders Marley, swatting at Quinn.

"They won't be ready to fry for a while, says the chief baker."

Marley scowls at her. It's hard to take her seriously when she still has flour on her face. "You still have to get the oil ready, doofus, and this is _your _house."

"Oh, _right_; I _knew _I was forgetting something." Quinn smiles, all faux-innocence, and produces a bottle of canola oil from one of Marley's bags. She pours a generous amount into a skillet and sets it on the stove. "How long do the donuts need to chill?"

"About half an hour."

"Does that mean we'll have to think of a way to pass the time?"

"Not if we do what we were doing just now." Marley grins. "But this time, you're on top."

The blush comes slow, scalding the back of Quinn's neck. Although Marley blushes too, she doesn't take back her words, grinning defiantly. She advances on Quinn without hesitation.

They collide in a rush of lips and tongues and heat. Quinn hops up on the counter herself, kissing away Marley's indignation. They are bolder this time, as though they've crossed an invisible barrier; flushed with desire, Quinn doesn't hold back, and Marley responds in kind.

Quinn's head falls back when Marley licks her way up her neck. "_God_," she groans, more breath than sound.

Marley pays her no heed, seemingly completely focused on worshipping Quinn's neck. Her hands grip Quinn's thighs, anchoring Quinn in this moment, keeping her from drowning in the sensations Marley makes her feel. Quinn tries to say something else, but it comes out a whine; Marley redoubles her efforts in response. It feels strange not to be in control.

There is that feeling again in her stomach; hot, curling flames that burn brighter with every kiss, every time Marley touches her. Quinn feels like she can never get enough. Her nails scrape over the back of Marley's neck, urging her on.

Quinn cries out when Marley's mouth finds a particularly sensitive spot at the base of her throat. It makes more of her inhibitions slip away, especially when that wicked tongue swirls over her skin. "Fuck," she hisses. She presses herself into Marley, feeling like it is not enough – that there are too many layers of fabric separating their heated skin –

Her hand makes its way back under Marley's shirt, but she is too distracted by Marley's ministrations to do anything. Until Marley reaches the bottom of her collarbone, where skin swells into flesh, and Quinn gasps, pushing at Marley.

Marley immediately stops what she is doing. She jerks her face away as though she's been burnt. "Sorry! Sorry, did I… sorry."

"No, it was…" Color suffuses Quinn's already heated cheeks. "It was a little too much."

"Right. Okay. Sorry. I should've… I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't, I just…" Quinn cups Marley's face in her hands, thumbs brushing her cheeks. She smiles reassuringly. "We're in my mom's kitchen."

Marley is already flushed red from the summer heat and their activities, but the crimson of her cheeks intensifies as Quinn's meaning sinks in. "Oh. _Oh. _Right. Yeah, okay. Good call." She tips her head forward, resting her forehead against Quinn.

Quinn puts her chin on top of soft brown hair. Her pulse is still racing in her ears, and she wonders how far they might have gone if she hadn't stopped Marley… "We _should_," she starts, and clears her throat self-consciously when her voice comes out a husky growl, "we should check the donuts."

"Yeah, the donuts." Marley worms her way out of Quinn's arms, stepping back to give Quinn space. They make for the sink at the same time, laughing awkwardly when their hips bump together.

* * *

In retrospect, letting Marley handle the actual frying was a good idea; she's far more confident than Quinn in the kitchen, flipping the donuts in hot oil like a pro. Quinn is tasked with coating the freshly-fried donuts with cinnamon sugar mix – and not letting either of them sample the fruits of their labor.

"I can't believe we're done," says Marley, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. She still has the patch of flour on her cheek, but now there's a smear of dough on her chin and a sprinkling of cinnamon sugar at the corner of her mouth. More flour speckles her brown hair. If Quinn looks closer, there's probably a souvenir of each stage of the donut-making process immortalized on Marley. She finds it unspeakably adorable.

"You've got some…" Quinn kisses her, tongue darting out to lick away the dab of cinnamon sugar on Marley's upper lip. "Wait, how did that get there?"

"Ask no questions and I'll tell you no lies." Marley brings their mouths together again, her hand resting on Quinn's cheek.

"I get it now," exclaims Quinn. "We made donuts so you could get me to do that."

"Oh, please; I don't need to do anything special to get you to kiss me." Marley waggles her eyebrows; Quinn snorts and pushes her away.

"Now who's the cocky one?"

Marley grins. "I didn't say I was cocky. I just said you being cocky was a good look on you."

"You're ridiculous," says Quinn.

"Also hungry."

"Do you want real food, or are we just gonna eat donuts?"

Marley shrugs. "They taste best when they're fresh."

Quinn reaches for a donut on the plate. When she picks it up, a bite mark is revealed on the bottom. "So _that's _how the sugar got there. Busted."

Marley just grins at her, unbothered.

* * *

Marley makes a pleased sound when she sits on Quinn's bed. "God, it's so soft," she says, throwing herself fully flat, nearly squashing Nickel the stuffed turtle. "Oh, hello there. It's nice to see an old friend." She turns to Quinn. "I named my otter Otis."

"You would."

"It was either Otis, or Otterly, and Otis just has a ring to it," Marley continues, seemingly oblivious to Quinn's comment. "Seriously, though, why is your bed _so_ soft?"

"Beds are supposed to be soft, Marley."

"Yeah, but yours is the good kind of soft, not the springs-in-the-middle-are-broken soft with a saggy hole that you literally can't get out of in the morning." She sighs happily. "And it smells like you."

"That's creepy. Quit while you're ahead." Quinn reaches for a pillow and bats Marley with it. The casual statement explains why Marley doesn't want Quinn at her house, but Quinn knows better than to say it.

Marley curls up, laughing and protesting weakly, but she does sit up, crossing her legs neatly. "Your room is really nice."

"Thanks." Quinn fetches her laptop from her desk, powering it on. She loads the movie, aware of Marley messing around on the bed behind her. It feels incredibly intimate, having someone over in her room – on her bed. Especially someone who she's with, romantically, who also happens to be another girl. If only younger Quinn could see her now; wearing Cheerios shorts and a cheesy Saturn pun T-shirt, smiling at a certain special _someone_ wearing Hello Kitty pajamas.

_She would probably have had a conniption_, thinks Quinn.

Marley pushes herself to the head of the bed, leaning against the headboard. She gestures for Quinn to sit on the bed beside her; Quinn does, balancing the laptop on her legs.

"Comfy?" she asks, wedging one of Quinn's throw pillows behind Quinn's head.

"Very."

"Good." An arm slips around Quinn's waist, pulling her into Marley's body; it's a little too hot to cuddle, but Quinn doesn't care. She relaxes into Marley and hits play on the movie.

There's a strong sense of deja vu from being here, together, eyes glued to a laptop screen – and it's hard to believe that they last watched a movie two nights ago, days and nights blurring together in Quinn's memories. That despite being back in Lima, they haven't spent more than a few hours apart.

With the day they've had, it's easy to imagine how comfortably the rest of their summer will go. She almost feels silly for being as anxious about coming home as she was, and not trusting Marley.

But right now, she focuses on the here and now.


	12. Lima Heights Adjacent, Ohio

**Author's Notes: **Thanks to **_Mike Ownby _**for going through this chapter with a fine-toothed comb, making sure every word in this was fully justified (and not just author laziness), and for making sure life goes on.

I have a ton of notes for this, and they can be found on my Tumblr, **yumi-michiyo**.

* * *

Quinn wakes to the sound of her alarm. She scrunches up her eyes, rubbing at her face, grimacing at how greasy her skin feels. The sun is already out despite the early hour. Quinn doesn't spare it a glance, turning over to poke Marley in the ribs. "Wake up."

Marley grunts in displeasure. "Good morning to you, too," she mumbles into her pillow, squirming out of reach of Quinn. Further poking only makes her pull it over her head fully.

Despite her own grumpiness, Quinn chuckles at Marley. "Mornings are never good, but here we are." She disappears into the bathroom to wash up.

When she emerges, it's to Marley sitting on the edge of the bed, still hugging her pillow, expression disgruntled; it relaxes when she spots Quinn. "_Now_ it's a good morning," she says, voice still croaky with sleep.

It's far too early for her body to react to Marley's compliments (which come often enough for her to be used to them), yet Quinn feels her cheeks heat up as she rolls her eyes. "Go get dressed," she says, neatly dodging Marley's not-so-covert attempt to hug her. "Your mom will freak if we're late."

"No, she won't," Marley calls after her.

"Then I will." Quinn laughs at Marley's expression. "You try this every morning. Eventually you'll learn that it's not gonna work."

"Persistence has its own rewards," says Marley, reaching for Quinn again.

* * *

Despite the early hour, Quinn puts on Florence + the Machine, and they sing along. Quinn doesn't pay any attention to the world outside, but she can't help but notice the way Marley slowly begins to retreat into herself as time passes.

She has never paid attention to Marley's neighborhood both of the times she's come here; Quinn was nervous about the trip the first time, and focused on being unwilling to say goodbye the second. Even now, all of her attention is on Marley rather than what's going on outside.

"Well, here we are." Marley parks in the street. "Ignore the mess."

She frowns. "What mess?" asks Quinn as she follows Marley inside.

Marley doesn't reply. "Mom? We're here," she calls into the house.

"Kitchen, dear!"

The hallway is narrow, the paint peeling. The carpet underfoot is dingy and spotted. The Roses aren't rich, and the house looks like it; but there is no shortage of framed photos on the wall – even what looks like a macaroni painting – that make it a _home_. It feels warm and lived-in. Quinn takes an instant liking to it.

Marley still looks tense. Quinn puts a hand on her shoulder and squeezes. "I like your house," she says.

"It's not as nice as yours."

"Your macaroni painting makes it look like a million bucks."

Marley elbows her, but she does muster a smile for Quinn. "You can admire the art later. C'mon, let's go find my mom."

They turn left at the end of the hallway into the surprisingly large kitchen. Millie is nursing a cup of coffee at the large table dominating the space. "Sweetheart!"

"Morning, Mom," says Marley. She kisses her mom on the cheek. "You've already met Quinn."

But Millie has already let go of Marley and swept Quinn into a hug. "I'm hardly gonna forget such a pretty, well-mannered girl," she quips, releasing Quinn with a kiss on her cheek. "I can't thank you enough for comin' to lend a hand, dear. The Smith kids, bless 'em, have their annual family barbecue and far be it from me to deprive 'em of it."

"It's no trouble at all, Mrs Rose."

"It's Millie, please. We can't be so formal with how much my Marley adores you; why, whenever she called, she was fairly gushin' about how wonderful you are."

"Mom!"

Quinn smiles, amused by Marley's embarrassment. "You adore me, huh?" she says quietly to the other girl when they're fetching aprons out of the hall closet.

Marley goes pink. "Not that much right now," she retorts, and hipchecks Quinn on their way back into the kitchen.

Once the (in)formalities are done, Millie is all business. "Right, ladies; today's menu is lemon-an'-dill salmon salad, grilled chicken skewers, an' butter pecan cupcakes with salted caramel buttercream."

Quinn blinks; she wasn't expecting such an elaborate order, especially for their small town where most people's idea of exotic food is the neighborhood Asian takeout. Idly, she wonders who would order a menu like that.

"Quinn, dear, are you comfortable with usin' a knife?"

Quinn nods; Millie smiles warmly at her.

"Wonderful. Can I get you to mince the garlic and ginger for the skewers to start with, then cut up the other vegetables? Marl, the salmon for the salad needs to be baked first, please."

Marley bustles off immediately; Quinn glances around, a little nervous, until Millie puts a hand on the small of her back and gently steers her towards a cutting board and knife in the corner of the kitchen. "Marley knows the recipes by heart, bless her, so this is for you." Millie unfolds three pieces of notepad paper and lays them flat in front of her. "In case you're done early, we're both busy, an' you wanna know what needs to be done next. Now, go wash your hands, dear, and I'll fetch you the garlic an' ginger to start with."

"That's not necessary…" begins Quinn, but cuts herself off when Millie holds up a hand.

"It wasn't necessary for you to come help me an' Marl, either," says the older woman firmly, her stubborn expression identical to Marley's. "Now, git."

Quinn scurries away. She catches sight of Marley hiding a smirk as she sprinkles salt over the salmon fillets, so she accidentally-on-purpose bumps into Marley on her way back. Marley responds to her angelic smile by sticking her tongue out.

There is a good amount of garlic and ginger waiting for her at her workstation when she gets back. Quinn gets to work on the garlic first. She considers herself fairly competent in the kitchen, thanks to her mother's ideas of what life skills a young lady should have; but peeling the garlic takes a while, even with her experience. Quinn glances at the recipe; it calls for both the garlic and ginger to be minced finely, so she runs her knife through the garlic a few times until she's satisfied. Millie has left a large bowl, which she presumes is for the marinade. Quinn scrapes the garlic inside before she starts on the ginger.

"How're you holding up?"

Marley is smiling at her. She has hair plastered to her forehead despite the messy bun most of it is still in.

"I'm good so far." Quinn checks the recipe again. "Do you promise to come save me if I need it?"

Marley laughs. "Quinn, you definitely don't need saving. I've seen you run Cheerios practices; someone as organized as you isn't gonna be defeated by mere _vegetables_." She deposits bell peppers, onions, and cilantro on the newly-cleared workstation. "Anyway, I just came to deliver this. Save you the trouble of climbing over me to get them."

"Lovely."

She gets a giggle in return, which is very distracting. "I like the high pony," says Marley. She gives it a flick. "Very professional."

"Thanks? I think." Quinn watches her, occasionally darting a glance to Millie, who is somehow managing to sift flour, measure out milk, and keep an eye on a whirring industrial mixer at the same time. "Don't you have work to do?"

"I'm supervising," Marley says with a grin.

"No, you're being distracting. Shoo."

But Marley's playful mood is indefatigable. She only tosses a last smirk over her shoulder as she returns to her corner of the kitchen.

Quinn watches mother and daughter as she works. Both work together like a well-oiled machine, expertly mashing salmon and assembling skewers like they're in a professional kitchen. They have the same mannerisms; the same absent look of concentration, the same flick of the head to brush away errant hairs.

But in Quinn's wholly biased opinion, Marley is far more captivating than her mother. Watching her make frosting for the cupcakes – and getting a generous amount on herself in the process – is somehow endearing to Quinn. She looks happy. Most of all, she looks comfortable. Like she's in her element.

If she didn't think she was already in love with Marley, this might have been the final push she needed.

* * *

Quinn breathes a sigh of relief as she finishes icing the last cupcake and packs it in its foil tray. She's acquired a newfound respect for caterers. Millie runs a tight ship; not a single minute was spent idle in the kitchen, and every bit of food is perfect, despite the fact she's exhausted.

"All that's left to do now is delivery," says Millie, drying her hands on her apron. "The address is on the fridge, sweetheart," she directs at Marley.

"Sure, mom."

"I'll go with you," says Quinn to Marley.

"Quinn, dear, you must be tired."

She is, but she's a Fabray and a former Cheerio. Quinn musters her most winning smile for Millie. "I'm not that tired, Millie. I don't mind helping."

"If you're certain…" Millie claps her hands together. "I'll whip us up some lunch, then."

"Mom, you don't need to," Marley protests.

"Hush. You know we've churned out more in one mornin' than that; lunch for three is nothin' for your ol' mom." Millie winks conspiratorially at Quinn; Marley groans. "Go on, then. I'll have it on the table by the time you gals get back."

And she is off again, rustling through the fridge with an energy that amazes Quinn. She doesn't have time to stare, however, when Marley grabs her hand. "C'mon, I'll show you how we pack the trays for delivery."

"You really didn't need to volunteer," says Marley as they stack foil trays in plastic crates for the journey. "It's not like I haven't run deliveries on my own before, and you're not used to all this." She waves at the food.

"I might as well help out; I've got nothing better to do and these trays are heavy. I mean, being an athlete and all…" Quinn trails off, laughing when Marley aims a half-hearted kick at her shin. "I thought you adored me," she protests.

"I'm starting to change my mind."

It makes Quinn laugh harder.

Quinn's still laughing when she gets into the car, so she is caught off-guard when Marley leans over the center console and kisses her.

"The most effective way to get you to shut up," says Marley smugly.

"Idiot."

"Mmm." Marley glances at the address. "I don't recognize this place. No wonder Mom broke out the fancy stuff; she got a new customer."

"Do you have regular customers?" Quinn asks, intrigued.

"Yep. Most of them order just snack foods; buffalo wings, doughnuts. You name it. It's not every day Mom makes her fancier recipes, let alone a full menu like this." Marley pulls out onto the road. "It's usually when she wants to show new customers what she can do."

"Oh." Quinn vaguely remembers her mother ordering catering whenever she threw parties, usually for the local HOA or one of her social clubs. She tries to remember when the last one was and comes up blank. "My mom hasn't thrown parties in a while, but if she ever needs catering done, I'll ask her to give your mom a call."

"Thanks for the free advertisement. This is exactly why I'm with you," remarks Marley, and laughs when Quinn responds with an undignified snort.

They turn down a vaguely familiar street, and Quinn's stomach lurches. "Wait, what's the address we're delivering to?"

"720 Westbrook Drive."

She goes cold. "Oh shit. That's Santana's house."

The double-take that Marley executes would be comical if Quinn wasn't worrying that she'd broken her neck. "_What_?"

"Yeah. Brittany and I have been here a few times for parties and sleepovers."

Marley glances out the window at the large houses. "I didn't know her family was rich."

"Don't let the whole Lima Heights adjacent act fool you," says Quinn. "Her dad's the chief of general surgery at Lima Memorial."

"Okay, wow." Marley makes a face, then laughs. "She's really something, isn't she?"

"That's a word for it," grumbles Quinn as the car slows down outside a familiar building. She smooths down her hair, brushes off the front of her T-shirt, and squares her shoulders. It's unlikely that Santana was the one who ordered the food, and even more unlikely that she knows who she ordered it from. There's also a chance that Santana won't be home today.

Marley catches her wrist before she can climb out of the car. "Hey," says Marley softly, "you don't have to come with me, y'know. It's Santana's house and all… I understand."

She _does _know – that she doesn't need to do this, and that Marley will understand if she backs out now. But she has nothing to hide; nothing to be ashamed of. She's no longer in high school, and there's no hierarchy to uphold, no image to preserve. Quinn shakes her head. "I'm not ashamed of any of this," she tells Marley, smiling at her, nodding at their joined hands.

If there was an invisible test, she's passed it. Marley's smile starts small, then grows fonder and more beautiful. She leans forward, lips brushing Quinn's forehead.

* * *

Maribel Lopez opens the door, beaming widely. "Quinn! What a wonderful surprise! Oh, are you delivering my catering?" she asks on catching sight of what Quinn's carrying. "I didn't know you'd found a summer job so quickly."

"Just helping out a friend, Mrs Lopez." She nods at Marley, who is coming up the walk with another plastic crate. "That's Millie Rose's daughter, Marley. She's in Glee club with Santana and me."

"Hi, Mrs Lopez," says Marley, flashing her a smile. "It's nice to meet you."

The older woman waves her off. "Come in, come in. There's plenty of time for chitchat later. Those look heavy, let me show you where to put them."

"I think it's absolutely lovely that you're not being idle this summer," says Maribel as she walks through the house, the two girls trailing after her. "All our Santana wants to do is lounge by the pool all day. Maybe you should get her to help out; God knows she could use the working experience. Manuel and I spoiled her rotten."

The pool looks exactly as Quinn remembers it, except for the addition of a large number of older people milling around and talking. Maribel leads the way to the large empty tables set up at the end of the garden. Quinn sets the plastic crate in her arms on the grass and starts heaving foil trays out. She smiles when she catches Marley trying not to stare at their surroundings. "One day, you'll buy your mom a house on Millionaire's Row," she says, nudging Marley.

Marley is already flushed from the heat and the exertion, but she goes a deeper shade and stutters an inaudible response, much to Quinn's amusement.

"Holy shit."

A familiar voice gives Quinn pause. She stands up, takes a deep breath, and turns around.

The look on Santana's face is priceless. Quinn wishes she had a camera to capture it with.

"Santana, _mija_, language. But you do have perfect timing. Can you help Quinn with the food? Your Tia Marissa is calling me and you know she doesn't like to be kept waiting." And Maribel bustles off to the other end of the garden, leaving Quinn and Santana in a Mexican standoff.

Santana pushes her sunglasses up. "Fabby, is that really you? And with Lunchlady Jr? Holy shit. Are you two catering my mom's garden party?"

"That's the worst nickname for me you've ever come up with," mutters Quinn. "That's saying a lot, since it's you."

Santana ignores her. "I'm naturally creative. I love it, it has a ring, it's your name now. But can we talk about how you're working for Lunchlady Sr? Marrying into the family business, I like it."

Quinn's eyes narrow. "One more word, Lopez, and I will shank you."

"You've got no power over me here, Fabby." She eyes the foil trays. "Those smell good. My mom didn't tell me she'd ordered catering."

"There's more in the car if you feel like helping," says Quinn, grabbing the empty plastic crate. "Your mom said it would be a good idea if you got a summer job."

Santana cackles. "Not on your life." She follows them out, however. "Wow, Fabby. You look good. Scratch that, you're practically glowing." She picks at Quinn's shirt sleeve; Quinn smacks her hand away. "What did I tell you about the healing power of lady kisses? God, you owe me big for making you ask her in the first place."

Quinn scowls. She does, however, appreciate the quick glance Santana throws at her house as she makes sure they are truly alone. "God, you've been spending too much time with Rachel, you're starting to sound like her. I don't know about any healing powers, especially coming from you; you're more of a poster child for STDs than lesbians."

"Like how you're a walking billboard for the joys of unprotected sex?"

"Hey, don't talk to her like that."

The interruption in their usual banter is so unexpected, they both stop glaring at each other and turn to Marley, shocked. After about a minute of silence, Santana bursts into laughter. "God, Rose, are you actually _shaking_? You've got balls." She turns to Quinn. "Looks like the rubbing off goes both ways."

"You're such a bitch, Lezpez." Quinn loops an arm around Marley's, partly to put herself between Marley and Santana, but mostly because she is impressed and relieved by Marley's interruption. "Thanks again for the Cedar Point passes. We thought of you when we rode the coasters."

"Fuck you," says Santana, equally pleasant. "Now unload the rest of those crates and get out of my house. You," she points at Quinn, "me, Breadstix. Text me once you get your face out of your lady's lady business."

Marley squeaks indignantly. Quinn, still smiling, lets go of Marley, picks up the plastic crate, and slams the corner into Santana, making her squawk. "Oops. Sorry, that's slippery." She readjusts her grip on the crate. "Sure, I'll text you. Remember to wash your hands before you show up, alright? Nobody needs to know where – or in who – those fingers have been."

Santana just stares. Quinn ignores her, stacking the empty plastic crate in the car trunk, hauling another packed crate out of the car and starting off back into the house. She is distantly aware of Marley doing the same.

Just as she reaches the house, she hears cursing in Spanish. Quinn cackles.

* * *

Maribel adds a generous tip to Marley's fee on the condition they each have a glass of Maribel's fresh lemonade for the road. Marley puts up a token protest, but she caves when Quinn subtly elbows her and accepts the kind offer on their behalf.

"Come on, we've earned this," says Quinn. She clinks her glass to Marley's.

Marley sighs, but smiles. "This is highly unprofessional."

"We might not always get customers this nice, so we should make the best of it."

"We?" asks Marley, smiling into her lemonade.

"I need all the money I can get. Ivy League tuition isn't cheap."

Marley laughs. "Sorry."

"What are you apologizing for?"

"I shouldn't have gotten between you and Santana. She's your friend, but I honestly thought you were gonna kill each other back there; you were glaring daggers at each other."

Quinn stares at her for a second, before she starts laughing. "You've got nothing to be sorry for. Yeah, we're bitches,but that's just how Santana and I work. We talk a lot of trash but I really care about her, and she might tolerate me. But… thanks," she adds softly. "No one's ever stood up for me like that before."

Marley smiles at her. Impulsively, Quinn wraps an arm around her waist in a sort of side-hug – the most public display of affection she will show in Lima.

"Break it up, don't make me hose you two down."

Quinn sighs. Santana has impeccable timing when it comes to making Quinn's life hell.

"Rose," says Santana, "can I borrow your girl for a minute? Thanks," she says, dragging Quinn away without waiting for an answer.

"I'm impressed," says Quinn dryly, "you're using her name."

"She's earned it," replies Santana. "Anyway, I was right. Say it."

"Right about what?"

"About you two bumping uglies."

Quinn makes a scandalized sound. "We are _not _– " she hisses, darting a panicked glance in Marley's direction, but doesn't finish her sentence when Santana holds a hand up.

"Yeah, yeah," she says. "I don't need the explicit deets right now. But _you and Rose_, Fabby."

"... Yeah." She knows exactly what Santana is trying to say; it's the difference between the 'sex is not a relationship' song-and-dance Santana and Brittany pulled through sophomore and junior years of high school, and being an actual same-sex couple in Lima, heads held high and hands firmly clasped together under the public's disapproving gaze.

Santana gives her a brief smile. "You're happy."

This time, she smiles. "Yeah."

"She fucking _yelled_ at me for you, Cueball. She looked like she was going to piss herself, but she did it anyway." Santana snorts. "You picked well."

"Thanks… I think."

Santana tilts her head, looking at something over Quinn's shoulder. She laughs suddenly, and waves. It's far too enthusiastic to be genuine, and – if Quinn's honest with herself – it looks exactly like a Rachel Berry mannerism. "She's glaring at me right now. It's cute. Like a puppy."

Quinn has to exercise every ounce of self-control she has not to turn around and see for herself. "She's probably glaring at you 'cause you're behaving like an idiot."

"Mmm. Like I give a shit." Santana turns her attention back to Quinn. "Now I'm gonna be surrounded by disgusting couples. Way to make me feel happier about Britt, bitch."

Quinn shakes her head. It cost her a great deal even to acknowledge what Santana was asking, and she's not about to say anymore here, surrounded by people she doesn't know.

She blinks in surprise when Santana shoves a cupcake into her hand, startling her out of her thoughts. "Your mom ordered these for _her _guests."

"Just take it, or your girl will get worried," snaps Santana. "She's got that look on her face that says she thinks I'm torturing you or something, and then she'll go off on me, like not in a fun way. Anyway, it's way too crowded here for you to have feelings at me, Fabray."

Quinn knows Santana understands, and she offers Santana a brief nod. "... Thanks." She takes a bite of the cupcake, just to have something to do. "Fuck. This is delicious," she says, staring down at the confection in her hand.

"I know, right? I kinda hate Rose now for holding out on us; this is something worth breaking Sue's diet plans for. But I think my mom has a new favorite caterer, judging by the way she's gushing at Rose." Santana jerks her head in that direction; Quinn turns her head and sees Marley talking to Maribel, the older woman's praise animated.

"Hey, Cueball?"

Quinn doesn't dignify that with a verbal response, but she recognizes Santana's tone and pays attention.

"From one repressed bitch to another: sometimes, good things happen to us. It doesn't happen very often – because we're repressed bitches, duh – and we think we don't deserve it. The difficult bit is being okay with letting them happen."

Quinn sighs. "I thought Yale was my chance to make a fresh start away from all this."

"Fabgay, you're not about to run screaming back into the closet, are you?" asks Santana suddenly, squinting at her friend. "Because we already got you through your big gay revelation and I'd hate for all that work to be undone."

"Believe it or not, Santana, I've come to terms with my sexuality," snarls Quinn. "I'm just having a little trouble handling the fact that you think here and now is a great place to talk about this."

"Good. Just making sure." Santana sighs. "Look, I'll kill you if you tell anyone, but I once spent a week at a petting zoo 'cause of Britt."

"Really?" Quinn's curiosity is piqued; Santana doesn't normally give away blackmail material for free.

"Yeah. That's my point: one moment I'm the baddest bitch in Lima, the next I'm more whipped than cream and loving every second of it. That's the downside of being such a badass, Fabray; we got a longer way to fall. But it's worth it. Britt is worth all of it."

She recognizes this as Santana giving her blessing; albeit in a weird, roundabout way. Quinn smiles, heart warming. "Please, S; you and I both know you haven't been a badass since the day you agreed to matching duck Halloween costumes with Brittany."

Santana bares her teeth in a quick grin. "Fuck you," she says genially. "Since you're happily taken now, what say we do a triple date? You, me, Britt, Rosie, Porcelain, and Gay Warbler. We'll be the gayest group in town."

"I'll think about it." She really does have to think about it, because as much as she loves her friends, being seen by all of Lima – even in the safety of numbers – is another big step for her. She might have done it without second thought a few years ago, as an angry teenager lashing out at her upbringing, but now she is doing it for herself…

"You'd better," says Santana, recognizing Quinn's stalling tactics for what it is. "And I meant it about Breadstix. _Text me_."

A genuine smile spreads over Quinn's face. "I will."

* * *

When they get back in the car, no one speaks for a full minute until Quinn accidentally meets Marley's gaze, and they both burst into giggles.

"That went well."

Marley makes a 'pfft' sound. "That's a word for it," she says, grinning, parroting Quinn's earlier words.

"It could've been worse. I think being invited on the gayest triple date in Lima isn't the worst possible outcome."

"Wait, a triple date? Santana and Brittany, and who?"

"Kurt and Blaine."

Marley laughs again, but there's a strained quality to her voice. "That's… wow. Do we have to say yes? Is she gonna do something if we turn her down?"

"Marley, it's okay. Santana, of all people, knows what it feels like to be outed before you're ready. She won't push if you're not comfortable with it."

"I'm not uncomfortable," says Marley with a shrug. "I was wondering about you."

And here's something for Quinn to mull over. Two weeks ago, Quinn was perfectly content to stay in the closet her entire life; just because she'd accepted she was gay didn't mean she had to act on it. Maybe she would date a few girls discreetly and chalk it up to college experimentation. But now, she's with another person, her friends know, and they also happen to be insane about it. "We have plenty of time to think it over," she deflects. "C'mon, let's go have lunch, and then maybe we can sneak a nap later."

Marley wrinkles her nose. "And a shower, too," says Marley, starting Quinn off all over again.

* * *

Quinn hasn't been so full in a while.

She knows better than to ask why Millie had prepared a mostly-vegetarian yet sumptuous lunch; so she just smiles, praises the food effusively, and cleans her plate. It's a good strategy until Quinn has trouble convincing Millie not to give her yet another helping of baked ziti, which she had two helpings of already.

Luckily, Marley saves her. She pushes back her chair, takes Quinn's arm, and insists that they're both in dire need of a nap. Quinn could have kissed her – and almost does, until she remembers they're not alone anymore, and Millie doesn't know exactly how _close_ Quinn and her daughter are.

Millie, smiling beatifically, lets them go without another word. She has a bridge club meeting anyway (Quinn's astonishment at her energy deepens) and reminds Marley that she'll be back after dinner.

Dimly, Quinn registers the words. She's still suffering from the early start to the day, the morning's hard work, and now this food coma. All she's capable of is nodding at Millie as she follows Marley upstairs to her room.

"Well, this is it." Marley waves a hand, her smile stretched and plastic.

"It looks lovely." A lot of it looks handmade, giving it a warm cozy feel. The throw pillows are mismatched, the furniture looks well-worn, and it's the most comfortable bedroom Quinn has ever seen. She crosses the room to the bed. "Hey, Otis," says Quinn, patting the stuffed otter on the head.

Marley still looks a little tense, but she manages a smile at Quinn's antics.

Quinn frowns. "Marley?" she asks, walking over to her. "Hey. Look at me?"

She does, reluctantly, teeth worrying at her lower lip.

"If you're really not okay with me being here, we can go back to my house."

Her expression abruptly closes off. "I'm fine. I stink, though, so I'm gonna take a shower first." And she disappears, leaving Quinn alone with Otis.

"Did I say something wrong?" she asks the stuffed otter, who makes no reply.

* * *

When Quinn comes back, fresh from her shower, Marley is already on the bed. She's lying on her side, facing away so Quinn can't see her expression.

She sighs, crawling into bed. There's a strange dip towards the middle of the mattress that she avoids carefully. "Marley? Are you asleep?"

There's no answer, but she can see the stiff way Marley holds herself still. It feels very, very strange to have the roles reversed: Marley, taciturn and sullen, Quinn trying to be supportive and coax out an explanation.

Quinn curls into Marley's back, hand on Marley's upper arm, squeezing it. "I know you're not sleeping. Can we… talk about what just happened?" She has a feeling that it has something to do with the way Marley was acting when they arrived at the house.

She gets no reply after waiting a few minutes; just when Quinn is about to give in and go to sleep, Marley rolls over to face Quinn. "I'm sorry," says Marley softly. "I just didn't want you to see where I live."

"What?"

"I know we don't have much money, but at least when we were on the road trip I could pretend that I didn't have… well, nothing. And crap." Marley sighs, poking at the corner of a throw pillow where the stitching is coming loose.

"You don't have _nothing_."

Marley ignores her. "We've only been back for a couple of days, and we've spent it working for my mom, delivering catering to Santana's house, and now we're stuck in my cramped and shabby room."

"Marley," Quinn interrupts gently, "where is all this coming from? What are you trying to say?"

"I just…" She blows out a breath slowly. "I didn't want you to see my reality because it's the complete opposite of yours and Santana's."

Quinn just stares at her. She's known that this was a sore spot, but she hadn't guessed how much it affected Marley. "Did you think I was going to hate you because of that? I'm not someone who judges a person's worth based on how much money their parents have, Marley. I mean… I'm not _my_ parents, and I hope I never will be." She's a little hurt that Marley would think so poorly of her, to be honest, after everything they've said and done on the trip, but she tamps it down.

"I know that, but…" Marley protests.

"But nothing," she says curtly. There is a time to listen quietly, and this isn't it. "I don't care about any of it. I care about you."

The mattress dips (comically so; Marley wasn't joking about the hole in it) as Marley leans forward to kiss her; for a moment, a sliver of stomach is exposed by her T-shirt riding up, and Quinn's attention is drawn to it.

She acts on impulse. Quinn places her hand on Marley's stomach – marvelling at how warm her skin is – and rucks up the material, pressing a quick kiss on the exposed skin.

Marley inhales sharply. The skin under her fingertips moves. But she doesn't push Quinn away, or tell her to stop. Heart hammering in her ears, Quinn places another kiss, and another, the pause in between growing shorter. Marley's breathing starts to come heavy and irregular.

Quinn finds herself in the same situation from yesterday, in her kitchen, except… They're in Marley's room, in her bed. Her mother isn't home. There's nothing stopping them from going further, and it scares Quinn.

Then Marley's hand on hers stops Quinn from completely freaking out. She waits, half-expecting Marley to stop her, but instead, Marley strokes the back of Quinn's hand. Marley is blushing, not looking at her when Quinn darts a glance back up to her face. Emboldened, Quinn's other hand joins the first on Marley's abdomen. While her hands explore, she scoots up so they're nose-to-nose. Marley tips forward, evidently expecting a kiss; instead, Quinn maintains the space between them so she can look into Marley's eyes.

She pauses, not knowing how to express what is it she wants in words. Marley watches her, her eyes dark despite the late afternoon summer sun.

She kisses Marley unhurriedly, but with purpose. Her hands slip behind Marley's back, an action Marley mirrors.

Every fiber in Quinn's body is urging her to _move_. Heat pools low in her stomach, making each breath harder. She tries to relax into the kiss; this is normal, they've done this many times before, there's no reason for her to be freaking out.

But she _is _freaking out. She's in Marley's bed, wrapped up with Marley, tentatively but gradually kissing her into the mattress. Quinn knows what comes next, technically, and –

– rather than being scared of it, she is scared of how much she _wants _it.

Quinn gasps as Marley sucks on her neck. She arches her body, lifting her chin, showing Marley where to go next. Clearly, Marley has learned to read Quinn over the past few days, and she leaves a trail of kisses, each point of contact scorching the air out of Quinn's lungs.

Just as quickly as she started, Marley stops. She hangs back, panting slightly, cheeks flushed, hair mussed. They stare at each other. The mood changes, solidifying until the tension in the atmosphere makes it hard to breathe.

Without conscious thought, Quinn puts out her right hand. Her fingers brush away at Marley's hairline, pushing the errant strands of hair back. She can see Marley's eyes following the movement of her hand, expression unreadable.

Quinn holds her breath; Marley lets hers out slowly, hot air brushing Quinn's skin.

Before Quinn can withdraw her hand, Marley's fingers curl around it, gently holding it in place against her cheek. Her eyes flutter shut as she turns to press her face into Quinn's palm.

If Quinn thought it was hard to breathe before, it is impossible now. She can't look away from Marley, from whatever she is seeing in the other girl's face.

When Marley finally looks at Quinn again, Quinn is shocked by how _dark_ her eyes are. A hint of white shows when Marley presses her teeth into her lower lip; Quinn's gaze flickers there, following the movement. The tension goes up another notch.

Quinn has to make a move before she loses her nerve. She brushes the pad of her thumb over Marley's lower lip, stopping her from abusing it further, and swipes further down, tracing the outline of her mouth. The movement coaxes a soft sound from Marley.

They've kissed plenty of times. There have been plenty of touches, innocent, teasing, and everything in between. This – whatever this is – feels much more intimate than anything they've done before.

Quinn tries to slide her hand down Marley's cheek; Marley's grip slackens, and lets her. While her thumb lingers on the corner of Marley's lips, her fingertips drag over the other girl's jaw, nails scraping a little. Quinn's left hand comes up to frame Marley's face, mirroring the position of the right briefly.

She tugs lightly; Marley obediently leans in to meet her halfway.

Quinn's lips only brush Marley's teasingly. Marley makes a noise of protest, and tips her face at an angle to kiss her again; Quinn lets her.

If there's one thing she knows how to do well, it's to kiss. Quinn prides herself on always retaining her control no matter how heated things get. None of her rules apply to Marley; offering anything less than all Quinn has to give feels like an insult to her, even if it goes against all of Quinn's instincts. No matter how _right_ it feels…

She breaks the kiss again. Marley, eyes closed, tries to follow. Quinn allows herself a quick, secret smile before pressing her lips to the corner of Marley's smile. Slowly, like they have an entire summer to be doing this. Passionately, like this is the only thing she wants to be doing for the rest of her life.

Quinn's mouth moves against Marley's. Neither wants to give way this time. Her lips follow the path her thumb marked out scant minutes before; Marley moans, the sound vibrating into Quinn's body. Quinn has not let go of Marley's face, and she is vaguely aware that Marley's hands, formerly on the bed, have threaded themselves into her hair. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, blood pounding in her ears.

Then Marley breaks the kiss and rolls flat on her back, chest rising and falling with deep breaths. "Are you okay?" she asks, pushing herself up on an elbow to look down at Marley, alarmed.

"I'm fine," she answers. "Just.. there was a lot going on."

"Oh. Yeah." She's not about to try putting it into words herself.

Then Marley surges up to kiss her cheek, surprisingly chaste after everything. "It was good," she clarifies, her smile a little crooked, "but a little intense," Marley admits. "I don't… I'm not ready."

It takes a while for it to sink in, but when it does, Quinn goes bright red. "I, uh, me too," she stutters. "That's not…" and trails off into an embarrassed silence, willing the hole in Marley's bed to let her sink through and disappear for good. She settles for tucking herself into Marley's side.

"I've never – _you_ _know_ – before," Marley whispers, then buries her face in Quinn's neck.

Quinn tries to say something. It comes out as a squeak. But she manages a, "Not even with…?" on her second try.

She feels Marley shake her head. "No. Not for lack of trying on his part."

It breaks the tension. They both giggle.

"Boys."

Marley laughs into her neck. "_Boys_," she says, like it's the funniest joke she's ever heard.

She wraps her arms around Marley's waist, pulling her closer, hands resting placidly over her shirt, feeling like her world's been turned upside down. They were in very much the same situation yesterday, but she had stopped them. She hadn't been ready.

And now? Marley was the one to stop. And Quinn would be lying if she says she's perfectly happy with that.

She's not completely ignorant of how two girls can have sex. She's done a lot of clandestine web searches (once using the library computers, hoping they'll blame the search history on Jacob ben Israel); she knows some key phrases like _scissoring_ and _gold star lesbian_ and _Ellen deGeneres_. The question, of course, is whether she's ready to have sex with someone she's known – for all intents and purposes – for two weeks, and has been kissing for one. Someone who'll be off to New York in a matter of months, who's way too kind and sweet and good for Quinn Fabray.

She wants to believe everything Santana says; she really does. But Brittany won't be going to New York with her, and neither of them are capable of holding a long-distance relationship.

Quinn will always, always choose to walk away first.

Quinn runs a hand through Marley's hair, combing through the silky brown hair with her fingers. It's much like the action that caused the shift between them, but this time, Marley's response is to let out a low hum and snuggle closer.

She's asleep. It's amazing that she _can _sleep, considering how noisy Quinn's internal freak-out is.

When she interrupts herself with a yawn, Quinn decides that sleep is a very good idea. She lets her eyes close and her thoughts drift.

* * *

As much as she wants to spend another day wrapped up in Marley (literally and figuratively), Quinn does miss spending time with Santana, and texts her to confirm their dinner plans.

Santana's reply is practically instantaneous.

_duh bitch _

Quinn rolls her eyes even though Santana isn't there to see it.

**Lovely.**

_u luv me xx_

* * *

Santana is already seated and terrorizing the staff when Quinn arrives. "Fabby," she says, nodding at Quinn.

Quinn bares her teeth in a smile. "Satan. Nice to see you outside of hell." She slides into the booth, and is immediately presented with a glass of iced water.

"Keep the breadsticks coming until I say so," says Santana to the nervous-looking waiter. "Bring me a spaghetti and meatball special for now." Quinn adds her order of chicken parmigiana before the man scuttles off.

"How many baskets have you consumed so far?" she asks, nodding at the half-empty basket in front of her friend.

"Not enough." She nods at the waitress who replenishes her breadsticks. "It's a celebration, Q; we're celebrating you finally getting some tail."

"Shut up," she hisses, eyes darting left and right.

"Relax, Cueball." She nods at their vacant immediate surroundings. "No one's within earshot because I told the manager we're not to be disturbed. It pays to be a platinum VIP customer at Breadstix."

Quinn does relax a fraction; Santana is many things, but she would never lie about matters pertaining to their privacy. "I didn't know Breadstix had a customer loyalty program."

"They don't. Ed the manager was just tired of explaining me and my demands to his higher-ups. Giving me a label makes his waiting on me hand and foot sound legit to them, ya know?"

"No, I don't." Quinn cracks a smile. "You're something else, you know that?"

"Yeah, no one's as awesome as me, Santana Fucking Lopez. New York won't know what hit it." She dips her breadstick in marinara sauce and chews on it. "Are you okay with talking now, or do I need to snap my fingers and have Ed bring out the privacy screen?"

She's half-convinced Santana isn't exaggerating. "Why are you doing this?"

"Ideally I'd like to have this little talk somewhere more private, but something tells me I'mma need energy for this." Santana points her half-eaten breadstick at Quinn. "I'm impressed, Fabby. You've only been on a trip with Rose two weeks and you're already macking on her. I would never have pegged her for the lady-loving type, given how she's spent the last two years orbiting Baby Puckerman and Baby Hudson."

Quinn folds her hands primly in her lap. "Before we talk about that, you're gonna tell me what you and Puck did to Jesse St James at Nationals."

"Jesse who?"

She narrows her eyes at Santana, who stares blankly at her before bursting into raucous laughter. "What, she told you? Oh man, that was priceless. She's all sorts of hidden colors under that bland goody-two-shoes exterior." She reaches for another breadstick. "We let St Lames chill out in the dumpster for a while. No biggie."

"That's it?"

"We may have been dumb enough to sleep with each other before, but Puckerman and I aren't dumb enough to pull off something major right at Nationals; not with Berry Sr hanging around. That woman is way scary if anything happens to her singing robot army before a major competition." She grins when the waiter returns with their food, digging in with relish. "Your girl is a trooper, by the way; I hope she told you that," says Santana, words muffled by her pasta.

Quinn allows herself a small smile as she twirls spaghetti around her fork. Santana mimes gagging into her food.

"Forget I said anything. Really."

"I know that's not all you did. Tell me what else you did to him, or I'll tell Rachel you were responsible for her bedazzler's disappearance."

"Fuck. You."

"Not only will I tell her where you hid it, I'll also buy her a jumbo pack of rhinestones for New York." Quinn's voice goes syrupy-sweet. "Won't your apartment look nice? She'll bedazzle every bit of fabric in it. The couch cushions, your bed, the toilet seat…"

"Fabray, you monster!"

Quinn leans back in her seat, smiling. She knows she's won. "Tell me."

"Fuck," says Santana, sighing deeply. "Okay, fine. Puck and I superglued the button and zipper of his pants. _And_ his stupid suspenders to his shirt for good measure."

"Oh my god."

Santana can't stop smirking. "I heard from one of the other show choir kids that he tried to go for a last-minute pre-show good luck tinkle. Kinda serves them right for wearing tight tailored pants. He had to get help cutting them off after the performance."

Quinn snorts loudly. "You evil genius bitch. I can't believe you didn't get caught."

"Please, who do you think you're talking to? I scare myself sometimes with how brilliant I am." Santana inspects her cuticles. "Now spill about you and your girl."

"There's nothing to spill." It feels too personal, telling Santana how everything changed yesterday. "We haven't… you know. And we might never."

"Why not? Do you not know how girls do it?" Santana asks bluntly. "You've walked in on Britt and me enough times already; most people don't need an instruction manual beyond that."

"No! God! That's not – I don't even know why I'm talking to you about this," Quinn growls. "But if you must know, it's only been two weeks. No one falls for anyone in two weeks."

Santana shrugs. "You're talking to the wrong fucking person. I first laid eyes on Britt in preschool. She was telling Karofsky that unicorns were real and they pulled Santa's sleigh sometimes when the reindeer were sick. In that instant, I knew she was the one for me."

"You're serious?"

"No," says Santana, and cackles as Quinn glares at her. "Fuck, Fabby, your expression was priceless."

"I hate you. Stop calling me that."

"No."

Quinn sighs and lets it go. She knows that Santana can be extremely childish when it comes to her new playthings. "I don't… it doesn't make sense, S. I barely know her." She drops her head into her hands. "I think… I might've made a mistake letting her in."

"A mistake? Fuck you, say that to her face, you coward," Santana snaps, playful demeanor gone. "Letting Fuckerman into your granny panties was a _mistake_, not whatever you have with Rose. Anyone with eyes can see that she adores you despite the fact you're a closed-off bitch with a stripper pole up your ass."

Quinn doesn't feel like she has the right to be mad at that. "I'm just… she's going to New York with you and Rachel and Kurt and… I'm not."

"So? Big freaking whatever. Newsflash, Fabby; trains and shit exist. You're not stuck on another planet."

Quinn glares at her. "It's not _that_. She… she deserves better than me. She'll be going to the world's biggest city and meeting so many people. Better people. People who will be better for her than me."

Santana's eyebrows rise, in danger of disappearing into her hairline. "_Ay, dios mio_,"she grunts. "Look, I've known her for all of five minutes and even I can see that it's _you _she wants, and you want her just as much. Okay? She's like Berry; she doesn't give up on people when a better model comes along, like a puppy. It's an annoying problem, but it's _your_ annoying problem." She grins suddenly. "And she stood up to me, Santana _fucking_ Lopez, for you, Cueball Fabby Fabgay. That counts for a lot in my book, so you don't let someone like that go."

She smiles at the memory; she can't help it. Santana points at her accusingly. "See! You're being totally gross right now. Stop it."

The smile melts off her face, and Quinn stabs moodily at her chicken. "It still doesn't make sense," she repeats stubbornly.

"Look, Fabby, remember what we talked about yesterday? Life doesn't fucking make any sense, and it's not supposed to. If it did, I wouldn't be a lesbian ex-cheerleader moving to New York with two of the people I used to throw slushies at." Santana smirks. "She makes you happy, Q; you're less of an uptight bitch than you normally are with her."

"Fuck you."

"Holding on to something that makes you happy is as good a plan as any other," Santana says, unfazed. "What doesn't make sense about that?"

Quinn chews on her lower lip. Everything Santana's said is a variation of what's been floating around her brain for the past few days, but hearing it from one of her closest friends makes it real. "I'm scared, San."

"Yeah, I know, Q. I've been there." Santana sighs. "It's terrifying, having feelings and shit."

"I think I love her." Quinn hates that her voice comes out shaky, but it's out, and she can't take it back.

Santana starts to laugh, then stops as she scrutinizes Quinn's expression. "Holy shit, you're serious." Santana squints at her. "It's only been a couple of weeks. You and your U-Haul are gonna give all lesbians a bad name."

"Shut up."

"Love you too. Are you gonna tell her?"

Quinn utters a soft groan. "Santana, can we not talk about this anymore? Please?"

"God, Fabray, you begging me is doing nothing for my libido." Santana roughly shoves her basket of breadsticks at Quinn. "Here. Eat, before you ruin blondes for me."

This is Santana's way of changing the subject, and Quinn breathes a little easier at the reprieve. The conversation isn't over – not by a long shot, but it's not Santana she needs to be having it with.


	13. 27 Dudley Road, Lima, Ohio

**Author's Notes: **Major thanks go to **_Mike Ownby _**for valiantly wading through this emotional minefield of a chapter, discussing story mechanics, and suggesting the Rachel scene. All this on top of his usual duties.

This is the second-last chapter of _Shifting Skylines_! We'll have an epilogue left before this story comes to an end :)

* * *

Despite the open window, there is no sound but the whirr of a solitary fan, providing background harmony for the cicadas outside.

And despite how tranquil it is, Quinn can't sleep.

It feels like the summer has flown past; she leaves for New Haven in less than a week. Her first taste of independence, away from everything she's ever known. She's so excited, but simultaneously terrified; like a baby bird about to take its first solo flight.

Quinn gives up on trying to sleep. She rolls on her side, pillowing her cheek with her hand, staring out the window. Despite her fears, she and Marley have been inseparable for the entire summer, maintaining their status quo – without talking about what the end of summer means for them. So far, she has been successful at pushing her worries to the next day, and then the next…

… until she'd checked her calendar and saw that her flight was exactly one week away.

She'd been tense for a while after that. She's worried Marley's noticed.

The mattress shifts. "Quinn?"

She holds herself still, pretending to be asleep.

"I know you're awake," comes the low, sleepy voice. "I can hear you thinking."

Quinn sighs. "Go back to sleep," she says, shifting to face Marley.

"Same to you." Marley inches closer. "What's wrong?"

"... Nothing."

Marley makes a small scoffing sound. "It's not _nothing _if you're lying awake in the middle of the night."

"You know me, I'm probably overthinking things."

"No, _Rachel_ overthinks things. If whatever's on your mind is keeping you up, it's probably something major." Marley grunts softly as she pushes herself onto her elbows, brushing tousled hair out of her face. "Do you think talking will help?"

Quinn sighs again. She should have known better than to expect Marley not to notice. "I… I don't know. Probably not."

"It's about college, isn't it?" Marley guesses.

"Yeah." She curls up into a tighter ball.

Marley hums. "I'm worried too, if that's any consolation."

"It really isn't." Quinn doesn't know for sure if Marley has the same concerns as she does; it's more likely than not, given how many times Marley's talked about her life in New York, one which Quinn is part of. Quinn wonders if they can go back to just being friends after this summer ends. But most of all, she wonders if she'll be able to be brave enough to talk to Marley about everything.

About a week after their roadtrip, Quinn had seriously contemplated pushing Marley away and making a clean break of it. It wasn't anything new, driving people away; she's had plenty of experience with it

She'd lasted ten minutes before the guilt got too much to bear, and Quinn had been thoroughly ashamed of herself for days afterward for having even thought about it. Marley hadn't realized then, and Quinn was grateful for that.

But even though she isn't pushing Marley away, Quinn isn't exactly being honest with her either; she has yet to talk to Marley seriously about what happens after the summer, despite her conversation with Santana.

It's for that reason she's been avoiding her friend, knowing that Santana will give her grief for not being brave enough to have one adult conversation. She has no excuse.

But it is so easy to forget all of this whenever she's with Marley. How Marley's face lights up when she sees Quinn. How happy she is when she's with Marley. Marley makes Quinn happy just by being herself, and even though she knows it's selfish of her to postpone the conversation, she does it anyway. It gets easier with every passing day because there's no good time to talk, because they're spending the day at Sandusky. They're going to the mall with their friends. They've got a movie marathon planned.

As each chance she gets to start the conversation comes up, Quinn watches it go. She knows very well that all this will come back to bite her eventually. And seeing the date on her calendar just tells her, in glaring finality, that the day of reckoning has come at last.

A warm hand brushes her cheek, bringing her out of her thoughts. "You spaced out for a while back there," says Marley, laughing softly. "Are you having a major crisis?"

"Sorry." She shuffles closer.

"Do you think you can fall asleep at all?"

"Not really," admits Quinn.

"Then… do you wanna go out? Get some fresh air?"

"Seriously? In the middle of the night?"

Marley laughs. "That wasn't a no."

"Ugh." Quinn rolls over so she's facing away from Marley. "You're so weird."

"There's air conditioning in the car," she says.

"I have air conditioning right here."

"Then turn it on." Even though she can't see Marley's face, she just _knows _Marley is smirking triumphantly.

"It's expensive. My mom'll see the bill and she'll kill me."

"Oh." Quinn feels the soft and heavy weight of Marley's head settling on her shoulder. "We can't have that."

"Mmhmm." God, it's way too hot to cuddle, but Quinn hasn't got the heart to push Marley away. Despite the stickiness she already feels where their bare skin is touching, she leans back into the other girl.

Marley suddenly tenses. "... I've got an idea."

"Does it involve leaving the house?"

"Yep."

"Oh god."

"It's a good idea, I promise. Trust me?"

And of course, Quinn does.

* * *

Quinn has to admit that at the very least, it's more cooling than her stuffy room. Being outside means that there aren't four walls to stop the breeze. In fact, it's a little cold; Quinn is grateful for the blankets they've packed.

"... Why are we here again?"

Marley laughs. "You can't sleep," she says. "And since neither can I, we're gonna do something wild instead."

"How is driving out to Kendrick Woods in the middle of the night _wild_? Apart from literally, of course."

She gets a muffled snort in response. "You're a riot, Quinn. Honestly, I think some fresh air would be good for us. And it's either here or the local lookout point, which will be packed with frisky teenage couples since it's summer vacation."

"_Never_ use that word again."

"What, vacation?"

Quinn glares. "You're not cute."

Marley cackles at her. "Your vocabulary's better than mine. You suggest a better word to use."

"No, I refuse to get into that." Quinn sighs. "I just don't see why we had to come all the way out here in the middle of the night." She gestures at their surroundings.

"It's hot, but at least the sky's clear, and there's a nice breeze," says Marley brightly. "Plus, I thought it could be… a do-over of the stargazing thing we did. Kind of."

"A do-over?" Quinn repeats.

"Yeah, since you wanted to kiss me and didn't get to."

Quinn almost chokes. "That was… Marley, I didn't even know you wanted to!" Despite the chill, her face feels hot.

"Then what's stopping you now?" Marley breathes. Her eyes shine brighter than the stars.

Quinn rolls onto her side. She wants to kiss away that smug smile. One hand cups Marley's cheek; the other girl's grin softens, and she turns her face to drop a kiss on Quinn's palm.

Quinn's heart skips a beat.

Marley scoots forward and kisses her breathless, quickly segueing into a practiced rhythm.

Quinn breaks the kiss to say, "Your mom will wonder why we're going to be _so _tired tomorrow".

"I'm up for afternoon naps, if you are." Marley's fingertips dance down Quinn's spine. "It's the summer holidays, we should take full advantage of doing nothing while we still can."

And there is that little pang of guilt, that sounds a lot like Santana, telling her _you need to talk to her_. And again, Quinn pushes it away in favor of pulling Marley closer to her.

* * *

Rachel shows up in Quinn's house on a Friday morning (and really, Quinn is a little impressed by Rachel's ability to bribe her mom with baked goods). It's one of the rare days Marley isn't around, and Quinn has allowed herself the luxury of sleeping in, so she stumbles into her kitchen to find Rachel having breakfast with Judy.

"Good morning, Quinn." Rachel glances at the kitchen clock. "Or should I say afternoon?"

"Jesus, Rachel." She isn't surprised to see Rachel; the expletive slips out because she was not expecting to have her sleep habits criticized before she has her coffee.

"Language, Quinnie," Judy admonishes lightly. She sets a mug of coffee in front of Quinn, kissing the top of her head lightly. "Your hair's getting long, dear; perhaps you should get it cut before you leave. Goodness knows how much the salon would charge you over there."

"I'll think about it," Quinn mumbles around her coffee. Her mother deems that an acceptable answer and goes to the stove to make Quinn's breakfast.

Once she considers herself sufficiently caffeinated to deal with Rachel, she asks: "What are you doing here? I wasn't expecting you until later."

Rachel beams at Judy. "For your mom's vegan banana pancakes. They're the best I've ever eaten."

Judy beams back. "You're too kind, dear. There are plenty of good recipes online these days." She sets an overflowing plate of breakfast foods in front of Quinn.

Quinn narrows her eyes at them, but her stomach growls, and her attention is quickly absorbed by the food.

"Plus, we're supposed to go to the mall today, remember? You and I have some college dorm shopping left to do."

She doesn't remember agreeing to shopping. In fact, Quinn distinctly remembers making plans with Rachel over text about –

Her mouth twists in realization; she pretends to be very interested in her pancakes. It's too early for all this – especially after the full day of baking she and Marley had yesterday. She appreciates Rachel not actually mentioning the road trip, since a large portion of it isn't suitable for her mother's ears.

But one of Rachel's (many, as she often points out) talents includes the ability to read Quinn's mind. Rachel finishes her coffee and says, brightly: "Thank you again for the lovely breakfast, Mrs Fabray."

"It's no problem at all, Rachel," replies Judy. "You're such a joy to have around; Quinnie has her moments, but she's not the ray of sunshine you are."

"_Mom_."

Judy just laughs and ruffles Quinn's hair affectionately. "You're leaving for college in a couple of days, dear. I don't have that many chances to enjoy having you around." To Rachel, she says: "Thank you again for the buttermilk biscuits you brought."

"It was no trouble at all, Mrs Fabray."

"Have a good day, girls. Quinnie, you'll be home for dinner, won't you?"

"Yeah, Mom." She makes eye contact with Rachel as she shovels scrambled eggs and bacon into her mouth, eating as sloppily as she can; petty revenge for the ambush, but seeing Rachel scowl is very satisfactory.

* * *

"I was promised details on your trip, Quinn, and you've been avoiding me so far," says Rachel the moment they get into the car. "Honestly, given the happily sa – "

"– If you mention the s-word, Rachel, I swear to God I will auction off your Barbra Streisand bobblehead doll on eBay."

" – pphic events that have unfolded on your trip, I believe I am at least owed a thank you," finishes Rachel, crossing her arms over her chest. "And unfortunately for you, Barbra has been moved to a secure and classified location."

Quinn stares at her, choosing to focus on the more unbelievable part of Rachel's words. "A thank you? For what?"

"Ensuring that you would have a pleasant road trip experience, of course! It turned out even better than I'd expected, which is wonderful." Rachel smiles. "I'm so happy that you're happy, Quinn."

"... Thanks, Rachel."

"You're very welcome." Rachel beams at her. "Now, tell me about you and Marley."

Quinn shrugs. "There's really not much to tell," she says, starting the car. "We got to know each other better during the trip, and… she kissed me without warning one day."

Rachel clasps her hands together. "And now you're dating. That sounds incredibly romantic, Quinn."

"Not exactly…"

"You're _not_ dating?"

"We talked about it. It didn't make sense to be together for real; we barely know each other, and we'd be going to different cities for college at the end of the summer."

Rachel's frown deepens progressively as she listens to Quinn talk. "... Quinn Fabray, are you telling me that the both of you are engaged in a summer dalliance?"

"Look, Rach, I don't know what you want me to say," Quinn starts, momentarily distracted when she takes the turn-off to Lima Mall.

"I don't require you to say anything. My opinions are irrelevant to your personal life. I think what you and Marley have is a very rational and practical arrangement which I can appreciate, though I find it remarkable that the both of you are mature enough for it."

"Thanks. I think."

"Though I must ask, are you certain about this, Quinn?"

Quinn lets out the breath she's been holding. "Rachel…"

"I don't mean to pry," Rachel says. "I just want to be sure that you're certain about this. Quinn, I know your sexuality is still a sensitive topic for you, but combined with your general reluctance to trust people – "

"– Rachel, I love you, but you need to shut up now."

Rachel huffs, but complies, remaining silent as they are seated in Quinn's favorite cafe, only speaking to the waiter to give him her lunch order.

Quinn's mouth twists. "… I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted."

"It's just that things have changed a lot for us since we agreed that it would be a summer thing, and we haven't talked about it yet." Quinn takes a deep breath. "Santana thinks I should date her for real."

"Oh."

"I don't know. I'm just… she barely knows me, and there are so many better people for her out there in college, and New York," says Quinn lamely. Her argument sounds progressively worse each time she says it.

Rachel scowls at her. "While I agree that your relationship with Marley progressed remarkably fast, I don't appreciate your low opinion of yourself."

Quinn shrugs a shoulder. "It's the truth, Rach."

"As though you have nothing to offer." Rachel scoffs, folding her arms across her chest. "We've known each other for four years now – with roughly two of those years spent being mortal enemies – and I can safely conclude that you are an attractive and accomplished young woman. In short, you're quite the catch, Quinn Fabray, and any girl would be lucky to have you."

She blushes against her will.

"However, do _you _want it to be merely a summer dalliance?"

Quinn's eyebrow twitches. "That's what we agreed on."

"And that's not what I asked." Rachel leans forward. "Do you want to be with Marley, Quinn?"

She drops her gaze to the paper napkin in front of her. It is impossible for her to lie to Rachel, who has been there since Lucy became Quinn, the first person to dismantle her emotional walls.

The first girl she liked, and her first _real _kiss.

"Yes," she mumbles.

A warm hand covers hers, stopping her from completely shredding her napkin. "I'm not going to pressure you into doing anything, Quinn," says Rachel softly. "I believe in you, that you'll know what to do."

"How do you do that?" asks Quinn a little desperately. "How do you and Marley just believe in me so easily?"

Rachel shrugs. "It's not difficult. You just need to learn to see yourself the way we see you." She gives Quinn's hand a pat. "Although I think you should talk to her soon."

"... Yeah."

Rachel smiles. "Now tell me all about your trip. Not the sapphic details, obviously," she adds, laughing at the look Quinn gives her.

* * *

The night before Quinn is scheduled to leave, Puck throws a party. It's actually for all the Gleeks who are going away to college, but he makes a point of telling her that she's the guest of honor because she's leaving town first.

She rolls her eyes at him. "Rachel, Santana, Kurt, and I are all taking the same flight to New York tomorrow."

"You're my baby mama, Q. We have something special."

"Seriously, Puckerman? Haven't you picked up a few new tricks yet? It's been years."

"I don't fix what ain't broken," says Puck with a laugh. She slugs him in the shoulder; he groans.

"Ow. Hey, you don't normally punch me a minute into the conversation. Am I losing my touch? Do I need to get out the wine coolers?"

"Pig," she growls, giving him her best icy glare.

"Oink, oink, baby." Unfazed, Puck points at the garden. "Everyone's in the back with the grill." He walks her there, thankfully keeping his hands to himself. "Hey, Quinn?"

Quinn knows the use of her proper name means he's being serious now. "Yeah?"

Puck holds out one arm to her. "I'm proud of you," he says gruffly. "You're getting what you've always dreamed of, what you deserve. I know I haven't always treated you right, but I'm glad we managed to move on past that, and still stay friends."

She smiles, wrapping her arms around Puck's neck, and lets him pull her into his side in a loose hug. It's moments like this when Quinn can look past the dumb kid he was and see the man he's growing into. "Thanks, Puck," she says.

"Anytime, babe." He grins at her and struts away.

She easily spots Marley in the crowd of Glee kids. She is deep in conversation with Sam, likely talking about comics judging from the animated way they're both using their hands to talk.

"Hey," says Quinn.

Marley turns to her, practically brimming with excitement. "Hey! You're here!" She slings her arm around Quinn's. "You're just in time for food." She nods over at the grill, where most of the boys are gathered. "Don't eat the hotdogs, I saw Finn drop one," she adds in a conspiratorial undertone.

"Thanks for the tip." Quinn smiles at Sam. "Hi, Sam."

"Hey, Q," says Sam easily, moving forward to kiss her cheek. "Lookin' good. All excited for leaving this town?"

"Yeah, you know it."

"Awesome." Sam grins at them both and downs his beer. Despite being in their year, Sam has opted to repeat senior year due to his lackluster grades, and save up some money for college while he's at it.

"Evans!" yells Mike.

"Oops, sounds like I'm wanted. Later, ladies. Thanks again for the poster, Fabray. I owe you." He nods at them and heads off. Quinn laughs when flames dart out of the grill and Sam quickens his pace.

Belatedly, Quinn notices a bottle in Marley's hand. "You're drinking?"

Marley makes a face. "No. Puck gave it to me when I got here and I've been holding it ever since. I'm just pretending to drink it so no one will offer me another."

"Smart." Quinn nods her approval. "I should do that too." She reaches for an empty beer bottle from a nearby table.

Marley makes a face. "I can't believe they're drinking. We're all underage; how did they get the alcohol?"

"It's Puck. No explanation needed." She eyes the bottle in her hand dubiously. "Being underage hasn't stopped him from throwing parties since we were sophomores. At least we've gone from boxed wine to decent beer."

"Wine comes in a box?"

Quinn laughs. "When was the last time you attended a Puckerman party?"

Marley scrunches up her face as she tries to remember. "Uh – halfway through junior year, I think. Jake invited me."

"Figures it would be Jake," says Quinn, shaking her head. "Puckermans and parties don't mix well."

"Is wine in a box any good?"

"What do you think?" Quinn asks, and they both laugh.

By this time, most of the Gleeks have drifted over to the grill. They remain standing on the fringe of the party. Marley smiles at her again; this time, a meltingly warm smile that's reserved for her alone. "I missed you," she whispers.

"It's only been a couple of hours." Quinn spent the afternoon with her mother out of guilt for not having seen much of her over the summer, while Marley was working a catering job with Millie.

"It was most of today."

"We've spent the entire summer together, I can't believe you're not sick of me yet."

Marley scrunches up her face as she attempts to vocalize her indignation. "I don't think I'll get sick of you over a single summer, but check back with me in a couple of years…"

Quinn laughs, even as a small tendril of guilt worms into her gut.

"Fabby!"

She groans softly. She should have remembered that Santana Lopez possesses the uncanny ability to ruin her life.

Santana, pinkie linked with Brittany's, rolls in, fashionably late as always. "Rose," she says briefly, before turning her attention back on Quinn. "You two look cozy."

Quinn glares at her, willing her not to ask any probing questions. She doesn't need this right now, not in front of everyone else.

Santana locks eyes with her; miraculously, she doesn't say anything. She merely raises an eyebrow and squeezes Brittany's arm.

"Marley," says Brittany immediately, "I need you to come with me. My sources say Mercedes has candy on her and I need your help getting us some." She drops her voice. "I have it on good authority that it's cola bottles."

"That's…" Marley starts laughing, then stops when Brittany doesn't join in. "Wait, you're serious?"

"As serious as Lord Tubbington's addiction to online poker," replies Brittany. "Which reminds me, I should cancel his credit card before he loses all our start-up funds." She grabs Marley's wrist and tugs; Marley shoots an apologetic smile at Quinn before letting herself be dragged away.

Quinn takes a deep, calming breath. "San…"

"So, Fabray," says Santana conversationally, "have you talked to her yet?"

Her guilty silence is answer enough. Santana sucks in a breath. "Jesus, Q."

"I know. You don't have to tell me; I know I screwed up."

Santana stares at her incredulously. "Screwed up – Fabray, this is more than just _screwing up_. You _need _to _talk _to _her_ – I know, ironic coming from me, but you don't want it all to fucking implode like it did with me, yeah?"

"We agreed that this – whatever we have – was only gonna last until we left town for college. We're not stupid," says Quinn desperately, fully aware of the irony of what she's saying.

Santana laughs coldly. "I think Yale made a mistake letting you in, if you're giving me that dumb shit and thinking I'll bite."

"Santana, please."

"You know what you need to do. We had a conversation, you and I, that we both know you should have had with her." Santana glares at her. "Fix it, Fabray." And she brushes past Quinn, taking care to bump into her hard.

Quinn sighs. She drops her gaze to the grass underfoot. Santana's right, harsh as it was; she deserved every bit of that dressing-down. She's a coward and a fool, and she's going to ruin one of the best things she's got going for her at the moment by being her usual self.

Distantly, she hears Rachel calling for her. She pushes her mask back into place, wearing her Fabray society smile, and rejoins the party.

* * *

Despite Santana giving her the cold shoulder, Quinn does manage to have fun. Rachel, bless her, hasn't said anything apart from a quiet: _I trust you, Quinn_ as the party winds down.

She sits on the temporary stage in Puck's backyard, gathering her courage. Nearby, Puck and Rachel are arguing about said stage; it appears that she talked him into setting it up for the party – something about always being prepared for whenever inspiration strikes. Apparently, he even splurged for a spotlight.

God, her friends are insane, but she's going to miss them so much.

Marley appears at her elbow. "Hey," she says.

"Hey. You look like you're having fun."

Marley laughs. "I am, but I'm also exhausted." She blows her fringe out of her eyes. "I've been up since five this morning making pastry puffs. I really don't mean to sound whiny, but can we go?"

"Sure." Quinn tries not to laugh at Marley's expression.

"I'm staying over at your place tonight, right?"

Quinn laughs. "I don't think I could say no. You've practically lived there all summer."

"Hang on." Marley frowns at the bottle in Quinn's hand. "Is that the same one from earlier?"

"Yeah. I haven't had any alcohol all evening, so I'm good to drive." Quinn starts towards the house – then stops when Marley catches her wrist.

"Quinn, wait. I need to tell you something."

The bottom of Quinn's stomach plummets. She forces a neutral expression on her face as she turns to look at Marley.

"Don't – it's not _bad_," says Marley. "Please don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" Quinn whispers.

"Like your world is ending." Her expression wavers.

Quinn glances around. "Marley," she says, "I know we have to talk, but let's not do it here."

"Okay. I'm sorry. I just… I let Jake talk me into having one watered-down drink earlier," confesses Marley. "I know I shouldn't have."

"You drank? I thought you didn't approve."

Marley chews on her lower lip. "I needed a little liquid courage."

And Quinn doesn't have anything to say to that. She merely nods and continues walking. Marley follows her out to the car. Quinn drives them back to her house. Her mother is already asleep as they go up to Quinn's bedroom. She locks the door behind them.

"Marley…"

"Are we going to stay together?" She wipes at her face with the heel of her hand, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Is there even an us to begin with, Quinn?"

Quinn exhales softly. "You're going to New York, and I'm going to New Haven. We're only just getting started with the rest of our lives, and we deserve a lot more than being each other's baggage." She joins Marley on the bed, together but not touching.

"You're not _baggage_, Quinn. I don't know how I can make you see that."

"Marley…" Quinn tries again. She's focusing on not letting her voice crack. "We talked about this. We agreed that whatever we have, it would be temporary, but I know things have changed a lot," she adds quickly when she catches the look on Marley's face, "with us."

"I know," Marley whispers.

"Please… don't make this harder than it has to be." Quinn sighs. "I'm sorry it's taken me this long to even have this conversation."

"I know." Marley forces a smile. "But now's our last chance to have this talk, huh?"

"I can't hide anything from you, can I?"

Marley shakes her head. "Quinn, this isn't rocket science. This is something we should've done ages ago, but I'm just as guilty as you for putting it off."

Quinn's hand flexes on top of the comforter. "This summer has been wonderful, Marley," she says. It's inane, but she's fumbling for words right now, and Quinn doesn't want to ruin things more than she already has.

"But?"

"But we said it would end when we leave for college," says Quinn. The words grate on her tongue.

"Why do we have to stick to that?" Marley bursts out. "Things are different, Quinn; you said it yourself." Her mouth compresses into a thin line. "This summer has been the best summer of my life. Quinn, you… I can't imagine the rest of my life without you, now that you're a part of it."

"We both know the distance will be hard. I'm not the best at long-distance relationships."

The ghost of a smile flickers over Marley's face. "Have you ever tried?"

"No," she concedes, "but I don't want to end up hurting you. I don't want to be a burden."

"You could never be a burden. And not hurting me is easy; just don't push me away. Like you're trying to do now." Marley reaches for Quinn's hand; Quinn pulls away at the last second.

"I'm not pushing you away. I just don't think that it's fair to either of us to be hanging on to each other. We'll be busy with school and work and new friends; I don't want to hold you back from your new life. What happens if you've been invited out to a party but we've planned a Skype chat? Are you gonna stay in just to talk to me?" The words tumble out so easily, Quinn wonders how long they've been stored up.

Marley's mouth, already a tight line when Quinn pulled away, slackens as she presses her teeth into her lower lip. "Quinn, those are hypotheticals. Don't you think it's equally as likely I'll be able to schedule my life so I can have everything I want in it? Would it be so bad if the highlight of my week was seeing you?" In a gentler voice, she adds: "Don't you think it's possible we could make it work?"

She has a point, of course, but Quinn is just as stubborn. "It's a lot to be juggling. You've got so much going for you, Marley," says Quinn woodenly. "You deserve more than being a face on a screen."

"What makes you think you can decide what I deserve?" Marley demands. "Quinn, you're not making any sense. We keep coming back to the same thing. There's something else you're not telling me."

"I just… I'm not made that way, Marley."

"Made what way?"

Quinn locks eyes with her. "To be happy."

Marley looks like she's been slapped. "You're not happy?"

"Of _course_ I am. I've never been happier than when I'm with you." Quinn shakes her head. "But it doesn't work that way. People like me – we don't deserve to be happy. It's not something that's meant for us, and I've made my peace with that."

"That's crap," says Marley darkly. It makes Quinn blink. "Who decided you aren't allowed to be happy?"

"Marley, we barely know each other," she tries to say, but Marley interrupts.

"Did this summer mean anything to you Quinn? Anything at all?"

"It meant everything."

Marley throws up her hands in obvious frustration. "Then why are you fighting me? Why are you fighting yourself?"

"You're fighting hard for something that wasn't supposed to happen in the first place." Quinn closes her eyes. "You _promised_, Marley."

"Quinn," snaps Marley.

"I'm tired of watching people leave me, okay?!" Quinn bursts out angrily.

Marley, mouth open, about to say something else, pauses. She watches Quinn carefully.

"I know I have issues. I'm _trying_. But it's not good enough, and people get tired of me. Eventually, they leave me behind, and I don't… I can't go through all of that again."

"Is that what you really think I'm going to do, Quinn?" Marley's voice is cold in a way she had never expected to hear; it shatters something inside of Quinn, knowing _she did this_. "That I'm going to dump you once I find someone better, or when I get tired of you? After everything I've said and done…" Her voice breaks a little, and it makes tears spring to Quinn's eyes. "We just keep coming back to the same damn thing."

Quinn takes a shaky breath. "I'm sorry."

Marley studies her for long moments without speaking. "No one's leaving anyone," she finally says. "Yes, we'll be in different cities but that doesn't mean you're alone, Quinn." Marley's eyes blaze with fiery determination. "I think you're worth the fight."

"Tell me that when we're a few months into college," says Quinn bleakly. "You'll be resenting me for tying you down. I don't understand why you won't let me go, Marley. This will be easier for us in the long run."

"Chasing me away because you're too scared to hold on to this isn't the answer, either!"

"Marley – "

"Okay, can you just – _fucking _shut up for a minute," says Marley through gritted teeth. "This fake nobility thing you have? That's _bullshit_."

Quinn's jaw drops. Marley doesn't seem to be fazed.

"_Stop running_. Quinn, you… I know this is scary. I'm scared too; I never expected to be feeling so much for someone in such a short time. Especially after everything we've talked about, that we said we wouldn't do. But you need to stop running away from everything that scares you." Marley's expression softens a fraction. "I've never been in love before. I'm eighteen years old, Quinn; we're supposed to be worrying about bigger things, like college and leaving home and growing up." Her eyes blaze. "But I do know some things are important and worth fighting for. Like you."

"Did you think I don't already know that?" Quinn snaps. "Did you think I wouldn't already have had this conversation with myself so many times? In so many sleepless nights? Do you know how many times I've wished I didn't feel so much for you, imagine how much easier my life would be?" She pauses, sucks in a few greedy breaths. "Because I do. I didn't mean to, but I did."

Marley's eyes go wide. "You – wait, Quinn, are you saying…?"

She straightens her back. "I love you," she says. Quinn knows she's not being fair, dropping a bombshell like this right _now_, but – god, it feels good to set free this weight on her chest. "And I'm sorry. Not for saying that, but for hurting you. I do that a lot."

"That's not an excuse."

"I know."

Marley stares blankly. Her mouth opens, then closes soundlessly. "... I don't understand," she finally manages.

"What's there to understand?" Quinn asks, genuinely confused.

"You say you love me, and still you keep pushing me away?" Anger slowly bleeds into Marley's expression. "What are you trying to do, Quinn?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you," she repeats.

"Well, it's a bit late for that," replies Marley coldly.

The tears Quinn has been trying to hold back finally spill over. All of this could have been avoided if only she'd been brave enough to have this conversation earlier, to fight for what makes her happy.

It makes her realize that this entire time, she's never been completely honest with Marley until now. Economical with the truth, maybe. But always holding something back, always keeping that last little layer for self-defense.

She wishes she was braver. People like Santana and Rachel – and even Brittany – weren't afraid to speak their minds, even when they knew it would get them in trouble. They seemed happier that way. But Quinn fears it's too late now.

At least she'll be getting that clean slate she wanted so badly.

A soft pressure on her face draws Quinn's attention back to her surroundings. "Hey," says Marley, tone oddly devoid of inflection. "Talk to me." Her thumb follows the tear track down Quinn's cheek; Marley frowns.

"I'm sorry," says Quinn. "I was scared."

"And so you tried to push me away," Marley says, sighing. "That's so messed up. Quinn, sometimes you're the smartest person I know, but other times, you're just _so_ pig-headed… I really don't understand what goes through your head sometimes."

Quinn feels her face grow hot; she tears her gaze away from Marley before the other girl can see her cry.

But Marley surprises her. "Come here," she says softly, and Quinn lets herself be enfolded in the gentlest hug she's had in a long time.

"Why aren't you mad at me?" Quinn asks, hands tentatively resting on Marley's back, afraid to hold on.

She feels Marley exhale. "I don't know. I should be. But I'm frustrated, and maybe a little disappointed; not mad."

Stung, Quinn pulls away a little. "I can drive you home, if you want."

"Don't be silly," replies Marley curtly. "It's past midnight, I don't want to put you out. I know your flight's in the afternoon, but you should get some sleep, at least." She lets go of Quinn to kick off her sneakers, crawling under the sheets. She holds them open, waiting.

The entire day catches up with Quinn in that moment. She removes her shoes as well, collapsing by Marley's side.

* * *

Quinn wakes with a start early the next morning. She doesn't remember dozing off. Marley is curled into her, face buried in Quinn's neck.

There's no snoring.

"Marley?"

No answer.

"I know you're not sleeping," says Quinn softly. Her hand hovers over Marley's head, unsure of whether she's allowed to touch her.

She hears a soft sigh, and Marley blinks up at her. "Hey."

"Hi."

Her eyes slide shut out of habit when soft lips touch her own.

Marley presses into her. The abrupt change of pace draws a startled sound from Quinn. "Marley, what – ?" She is cut off by a harder, sloppier kiss. There's a hand on her waist now, holding her close.

Her eyes snap open when a finger traces the outline of her mouth. Quinn finds herself staring into intense blue eyes. "I want you," Marley says. Quinn watches her mouth shape the words – before the meaning sinks in.

"What…?"

Marley repeats the words before lowering her mouth to Quinn's neck. Quinn shivers when fingernails graze her skin, peeling away her collar so a hot wet mouth can latch on.

"_God_," she hisses.

There's a pleased hum, then Marley pushes up against her. She swings a leg over Quinn, knees braced on the mattress, bracketing Quinn's hips.

She hasn't stopped kissing Quinn's neck yet.

Her thoughts are racing. This isn't normal – especially after the night they've had – but Marley has always been difficult to resist. Her body is too busy responding to Marley. The hand that was supposed to be pushing Marley away is gripping her shoulder instead, holding on tight. Everything about Marley ignites a fire in Quinn; especially when Marley's taking charge like this.

But this is all wrong, the wrong time and place, after everything they've left out in the open last night. Nothing's been resolved yet, and she needs to stop this _now._

She opens her mouth, ready to protest – then notices the hand resting on her stomach.

Marley isn't looking at her. She keeps her eyes trained on her hand – which trembles slightly.

"Marley?"

The hand moves upward with infinite slowness, rucking up Quinn's blouse and exposing a pale strip of skin. Marley still doesn't look at her.

Quinn rests her hand on Marley's, causing it to stop. "_Marley_," she murmurs, "what are you doing?"

Her mouth moves, but no words come out; until she clears her throat and tries again. "I want you, Quinn," says Marley. There's still a hitch in her voice, almost a sob.

This time, Quinn anticipates the kiss before it happens. Her free hand goes to Marley's chest, stopping her just before she makes contact. "I don't think we should be doing this now," she starts. They've been here before; both poised on the verge of something big. But this time, it's a lot more complicated. Marley's close enough for Quinn to see her throat work as she swallows.

Then Marley's eyes harden; she is straightening up, both her hands going to her waist –

Quinn watches, dumbstruck, as Marley pulls her shirt over her head. She lets the shirt drop, lowering her gaze to Quinn's.

She can see Marley is breathing hard, see the rise and fall of her chest, where it swells into the gentle curve of her breasts. She straddles Quinn, chin raised defiantly, clearly nervous – Quinn can see it in the way her arms twitch, fighting the urge to cover herself – but she doesn't look away from Quinn.

Quinn keeps her focus on Marley's face. "Marley…" she tries, her mouth dry, pulse racing out of control.

There is just enough time for Quinn to see Marley's mouth tighten, before she leans in again.

Quinn's no fool; she knows this isn't right. Quinn's heart pounds hard. She wants to hold Marley back, to stop her, but she's afraid of how her touch could be misinterpreted as wanting this.

"Marley, stop."

She hesitates into the kiss, but quickly regains her stride. Marley sucks at her lower lip, tongue teasing away at the seam of Quinn's mouth, begging for entry.

It shocks Quinn into action. She grips Marley's shoulders and holds firmly. "Stop," she says, struggling to keep her voice steady. "Marley, _please – _this isn't like you."

Without warning, Marley's face crumples. "... I'm so sorry."

"Shh," says Quinn, pulling her close. "It's okay." She fumbles on the bed for Marley's discarded shirt, handing it to her; Marley puts it back on with trembling hands.

Without warning, she bursts into tears, shoulders shaking. Quinn fights down her rush of panic, stroking her back and making shushing sounds. She presses a kiss into Marley's hair, hoping it's working somehow; her strengths lie in making people cry and not in comforting them.

The crying scares her more than Marley's uncharacteristic aggressiveness. Marley is strong, stronger than most of the people that Quinn knows; seeing Marley cry terrifies Quinn, knowing that something has finally gotten to her –

– and it was Quinn.

"I'm sorry."

"Whatever for?" Quinn asks gently.

Marley rubs at her face roughly with the heel of her hand. "For – all that," she says, and huffs a small sad laugh. "That was such a mess. I think I scared you."

Quinn shakes her head. "You didn't scare me," she murmurs, and despite the heavy mood, smiles grudgingly at the pointed look Marley gives her. "I'm serious," says Quinn. "I was more worried than anything. I just want to know what happened back there; that wasn't like you at all."

Marley exhales, long and hard enough for Quinn to feel her body shift. "Quinn, you're leaving today," she says, sitting up so she's looking at Quinn, her eyes and nose reddened from crying. "I wanted you to know that I'm serious about this, about us."

She can't believe what she's hearing. "You thought that having sex would prove to me that you're serious about us?"

Marley flushes crimson. "I wanted to give you something important."

Quinn's expression changes. "Marley, if you felt that I was pressuring you into anything – "

"– You didn't pressure me into anything!" She buries her face in her hands. "God, I can't believe I tried to do that; it was such a stupid thing to do. I'm sorry."

Quinn smiles. She reaches up and cups Marley's face, drawing her out of her hands. Quinn's lips brush over the tiny scar on Marley's brow, lingering briefly. She can feel Marley shiver under her touch, but it's nothing like the nervous tremble from earlier. Her fingers thread through Marley's hair, scraping lightly over her scalp; she relishes the soft contented sounds Marley makes in response.

"Marley, you have nothing to be sorry for. I am so lucky to have met you, to have found _this_ – what we have – with you. I'm not gonna lie, that was kinda dumb, but… I understand why you did it, and I'm sorry I made you feel that way." And she pauses, at a loss for what else to say. It's ironic that Quinn considers herself eloquent only when it comes to art and books and things that it's okay for her to like. She has never been good at words when it comes to her feelings – which any therapist might find alarming, given the inverse proportion of emotional trauma to the amount of talking Quinn's done about it.

A smile blooms on Marley's face, and Quinn realizes she may not need to say anything more. "I don't know how you expect me not to want to hold on to you if you're gonna say things like that," whispers Marley. Her voice is fragile, dangerously close to shattering.

Quinn's arms tighten around her. "I'll miss you too."

The sounds of someone in the kitchen filter through the house. Quinn glances at her door. "We should go. My mom will check on us if we don't show up downstairs soon."

Marley's hand on her arm gives her pause. "Quinn, wait."

She does, heart in her throat.

"Last night… you said you love me."

Quinn feels like she's been drenched in cold water. Vaguely, she remembers saying the words – but they'd been caught up in other things, and she'd forgotten.

Clearly, Marley hasn't.

"Marley…"

"Did you mean it?"

Despite everything they've talked about last night, everything that happened in the morning, Quinn knows they haven't actually said anything. She knows that it would be so easy to put this off to another time, like she has done all summer.

And this is it; every inch of her indecision, her procrastination, everything she has built, for better or worse. Every moment has led up to this. Her actions have led her up to this point, but she's not the only one affected now; Marley is offering her a choice, and the rest of her life depends on the answer.

Who is she? Is Quinn the same Quinn Fabray Marley sees?

"... Yes."

Something flickers in Marley's eyes. "I want to believe you; I really do. But it takes two people to make a relationship." Marley looks directly at her. "Are you gonna stop running, Quinn?"

She looks so vulnerable, Quinn just wants to hold her and never let go. Slowly, Quinn reaches for Marley's hand. She lifts it to her face and presses trembling lips to the palm. "_Yes_," she murmurs, finally meeting Marley's eyes. She is tired, so tired of fighting her insecurities and fears, especially after seeing how they have affected Marley and herself.

"Marley… You're so much. You're… there aren't enough words to describe you, and I'm not gonna try. You mean so much to me, and I wish I could see myself the way you see me."

Marley watches her, expression inscrutable.

"You're right. I've been a coward, and it's time to stop running. Especially from us." Quinn covers Marley's hand with her own, holding it to her cheek. "You _are_ important and worth fighting for, Marley… and I hope I haven't ruined everything beyond repair."

Happiness blooms over Marley's face gradually, eyes shining like a sunrise. "You haven't ruined everything, you idiot." Her hand flexes so she's cupping Quinn's cheek, holding it tenderly. "I really like you, Quinn. I think I could love you," she says softly, almost to herself. "Will you let me try?"

Quinn's heart skips a beat. "Yes," she says, looking into Marley's eyes, willing her voice steady.

Beaming, Marley wraps her arms around Quinn, holding her like she is something precious and fragile.

She closes her eyes, burying her face in the crook of Marley's neck, letting herself be held. It feels strange to surrender, to lay herself bare in another person's hands.

"What time's your flight?"

"Five-thirty." She booked a group package flight deal with Rachel, Kurt, and Santana because it was cheap, and the other three are headed for New York anyway; she's the only one with a train ride tacked on afterwards.

"Take me with you?" says Marley, half-jokingly.

Quinn laughs quietly into Marley's neck. "You're way too sensible and responsible to go with me, even if I tried."

"... I can't believe we're here," Marley says, sounding awed, and Quinn knows she's not talking about their physical location. "That you're here with me."

"I don't know where else I would be, given that we're dating," Quinn replies. She's glad her voice holds steady.

It is a joy to watch Marley's reaction. Her eyes sparkle, and she briefly ducks her head, as though embarrassed by her happiness, before she returns that incandescent smile to Quinn. "We're dating," she repeats happily.

Judy's voice echoes through the house. Quinn glances towards her door guiltily, then holds out her hand to Marley. "C'mon," she says. "We should get going."

* * *

Quinn is glad she isn't travelling alone. Not only does she get to delay the inevitable parting, she knows she can't say goodbye to Marley properly if she's the center of her mother's attention. But now, Judy chats quietly with one of Rachel's fathers, while the other makes small talk with Kurt's dad.

Marley looks beautiful in her favorite skirt and jumper outfit, but without her pageboy hat.

"You're not wearing your lucky hat," says Quinn.

"I thought of a better use for it," replies Marley. She pulls it out of her bag and puts it on Quinn's head, hands lingering. "I know you won't need luck to get into your first choice of sorority, but it never hurts to have a little extra on standby." Her fingers find the neon green bracelet on Quinn's wrist, giving it a playful tug.

"It's your hat."

Marley's eyes dance with mischief. "You can hang on to it for me until I go over there to get it back."

"I'll hold you to that," says Quinn, mirroring Marley's smile.

Santana marches up to them, an unhappy-looking Rachel in tow. "Congrats, Fabby. Since it's clear you didn't completely fuck things up, Berry and I are going to run interference with the parents so you can give your girlfriend a proper goodbye kiss. You're welcome."

Quinn goes pink, as does Rachel and Marley. "Must you be so crude, Santana?" sighs Rachel.

"I keep it real. You'll thank me for it someday." She turns to Quinn. "You have five minutes." And she leaves.

Rachel just sighs again before turning to Quinn and Marley. "I'd just like to say that I'm happy for you both," she says warmly.

"Thanks, Rach," says Quinn.

Her smile freezes. "But speaking as Quinn's best friend, I am obligated to say that if you hurt her in any way, I will be forced to abandon my principles and hurt you very badly."

Marley's eyes go wide.

"Rachel!"

She just laughs and rejoins Santana. Quinn narrows her eyes at them when they exchange a high-five. God, her friends are insane and she's about to be stuck on a plane with them.

"Suddenly, I'm rather nervous about moving to New York," jokes Marley. "Do you promise to make sure Rachel won't be lying in wait for me?"

"I promise." She can't help the smile that spreads over her face when she looks at Marley. "It's not really a goodbye, you know," she tells her, taking Marley's hands in her own.

"Just a _see you later._" Marley smiles down at their joined hands. "Text me when you land."

"I will."

Marley's lip quivers. Before Quinn can say anything, she's launched herself forward, throwing her arms around Quinn's neck, burying her face in Quinn's chest.

Quinn clings back just as tightly. A lump forms in her throat, but she fights it down. If she can be strong enough to survive everything life's thrown at her, she can be strong enough to hold on to it for once. To fight for the things worth holding onto.

"I kept my promise."

The words are muffled, barely there. "What?" Quinn asks.

"I promised I wouldn't fall in love with you."

Quinn shakes her head, smiling faintly. "You did. If I recall correctly, your exact words were, _I won't fall in love with you if that's what you're so afraid of_."

"I make no such promises for the future, though," says Marley, smiling. She kisses Quinn's cheek. "I'll see you soon, Quinn."

She finds that she is eagerly looking forward to what the future holds. While exchanging last hugs with everyone gathered at the airport, she also notices that her excitement means that she is a lot less emotional than she'd anticipated.

As she follows Kurt, Rachel, and Santana to their gate, Quinn turns back for one last look. Marley stands there, hand lifted in farewell, a faint smile on her face. Quinn returns the smile, and then continues walking forward.

In the end, she was right; her summer road trip turned out to be the clean slate she'd wanted. But she hadn't anticipated that would mean leaving behind the old Quinn Fabray, who ran away from things that scared her, who hid behind her emotional walls.

Quinn hopes she can be the person Marley sees, for both their sakes. It's not an easy path she's chosen; they have a lot of obstacles ahead of them, but the future's already looking a lot brighter than it used to, because she was brave.


	14. New Haven & New York

**Author's Notes: **And with that, this is the end of _Shifting Skylines_. Thank you to everyone for being here, for reading this, and being part of the road trip. I've put more comprehensive notes on my Tumblr, you know the drill.

Thanks go to **_Mike Ownby _**for going through the entire story with his arsenal of fine-toothed combs. I honestly do not believe this story would have been finished, or at least completed at this level of quality, without his input, commentary, beta-ing, and overall fanboy feedback (yes, I omitted Americanization because I'm getting rather good at it, to the point I'm using American spelling in official RL correspondence).

* * *

The promise of her first summer holiday as a college student – more precisely, of being done with her first year of college – does wonders for getting Quinn through the last bit of the semester, even as her days and nights blur into a haze of exams, books, and library marathons. Before she knows it, she's done, her room is packed up and in storage, and a golden summer stretches out before her.

"Fabray!"

Quinn frowns at her roommate. "I'm right here, Kate. There's no need to yell."

Kate grins back. "Uh, no, I totally needed to? We've shared a room for a year now; I can see when you've got your _I'm tuning out the world _face on…"

Quinn arches an eyebrow, shooting Kate the frosty glare she perfected in high school. It's never failed to intimidate her Cheerios. However, it has no effect on her roommate, who just cackles. Sighing, Quinn gives it up as a lost cause. She refocuses her attention back on the room, surveying the area one last time.

"I can't believe we've survived our first year of college," quips Kate. "Do you think it would be too much if I punched the air _Breakfast Club_-style?"

"Yes."

Kate does it anyway, sniggering at Quinn's unamused expression. "Oh, lighten up, Fabray. We've survived freshman year in the big Ivy League, and it can only get better from here. Not bad for a couple of Midwestern girls, right?"

Quinn does smile grudgingly at that. It's just her luck that her roommate is an odd amalgamation of Rachel and Santana, which means that although Kate is a good friend when it comes down to it, she is also absolutely determined to get on Quinn's last nerve and trample it. "If I recall correctly, you were the one who barely scraped through, Wilson."

"Details," Kate says with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Hey, you'll be driving past the train station, won't you? Gimme a ride, Fabby."

"No." Much to Quinn's dismay, Kate had accidentally walked in on her while she was on the phone with Santana, and had overheard that godawful nickname. Santana had thought it was hilarious, as did Kate; Quinn has already made plans to murder Santana the next time she sees her.

"Aww, c'mon. Please?"

After two semesters of cohabiting with Kate, Quinn has still yet to figure out why her bitch glares don't work on her. Even now, as she's glaring daggers at Kate so hard she wouldn't be surprised if she found holes in Kate's clothing, all her roommate does is make ridiculous pouty faces at Quinn.

"Oh my god. Fine, dumbass, since you asked _so_ nicely." Quinn shoulders her duffel, rolling her suitcase down the hall. When she gets to the end of the landing, she calls over her shoulder: "If you're not in the car by the time I get down there, I'm leaving without you."

"Rude!" It's followed by thumping and a string of curses that makes Quinn cackle.

Kate has two more suitcases than Quinn does, so Quinn finds it hilarious to watch Kate struggle downstairs and outside to Quinn's car. She isn't actually going to leave Kate behind – Quinn's rather fond of her roommate despite everything – but Quinn also isn't going to pass up this opportunity to punish Kate for using her hated nickname.

They both arrive at Quinn's car at the same time; a remarkable feat on Kate's part, given how much more overburdened she is compared to Quinn. "Ha!" Kate exclaims triumphantly.

"Yes, very well done. You've more than earned your free ride." Quinn bites on her lower lip to stifle her laughter. She derives an unreasonable amount of satisfaction from seeing Kate's flushed and sweaty face when she gets into the passenger seat.

"You're a sadist."

Smirking, Quinn turns the key in the ignition and pulls out of the lot.

* * *

She's not so mean as to simply dump Kate at the station; Quinn helps her lug her things inside as well.

"Do you even have time to spare? You're supposed to be picking up your girlfriend in freakin' _New York_."

"It's a ninety-minute drive there. Taking ten minutes to help my idiot roommate not die won't throw off my schedule," says Quinn.

Kate laughs. "Can I just say, I wish Stephen and I could go on a road trip too?"

"Only if I can go on record saying all of it was Marley's idea."

"And here I was thinking you actually _liked_ road trips. Your girlfriend's way too cool for you." Kate gives Quinn a quick hug. "Have a good summer, Quinn."

"See you around, Kate."

She pops into a cafe near the station to get herself a coffee for the road. It's an hour and a half to New York, excluding traffic, and she doesn't want to get there too late.

It feels almost strange to look at herself now; her first year of college over and done with, about to pick up her _girlfriend_ so they can embark on another summer road trip.

Although everything around her is so different, Quinn wonders if she herself has changed at all. Sometimes, she feels like she still doesn't know who she is; like the time she was second-guessing her decision to participate in rush. Quinn couldn't decide if joining a sorority was something she truly wanted for herself, rather than being something her parents expected of her.

Her life has changed in so many ways in only one short year. She finds it impossible to imagine her life without Marley now.

* * *

She makes it into the city without much difficulty, making a quick stop on the way to NYU to buy more drinks. Quinn manages to find a nice parking spot outside Marley's dorm, which she finds a pity since she's not planning on staying long.

Quinn gets out of the car to stretch her legs, dropping a quick text to Marley to let her know where she's parked. She gets a very enthusiastic reply, full of emoji, that makes her chuckle. It's abundantly clear from the text that Marley has missed her. It's been some time since they've last seen each other because they've both been busy, and Quinn is looking forward to seeing her girlfriend too; Skype chats just weren't the same.

"Quinn!"

She looks up from her phone, immediately getting an armful of excited girlfriend. "Hi," says Quinn. "I got you a coffee for the road."

"A _what_?"

Quinn giggles at the horrified look on Marley's face. "I'm kidding. I got you your favorite iced tea. It's in the car."

She gets a reward kiss to her temple and a muttered, "Don't scare me like that." Then Marley freezes, hand on the passenger door. "Oh. Wait, is this _your _car?" Marley runs her hand over the side of the red Mini Cooper, eyes wide.

"Yeah," says Quinn, smiling. "Surprise."

"When I said it would be fun to drive home and make a trip out of it, Quinn, I didn't think you'd put in this much effort. How'd you manage to arrange this?"

"Puck came to visit me in New Haven two weeks ago, so I called in a favor and got him to drive it here."

Marley smiles. "I'm impressed by the amount of influence you wield over our friends, Quinn."

"It's nothing compared to Santana," says Quinn, playing along. "She actually does have Breadstix at her disposal. I can only wish I had that much power."

Marley shakes her head. "God, I've missed you." She's wearing her lucky hat, which was successfully stolen from Quinn on her last visit. Marley hops into the passenger seat, leaning over the console to kiss Quinn once they're settled inside. "I'm so happy to see you."

Quinn laughs when the brim bumps her forehead. She'll steal it back before the summer's out; that's the game they've been playing for a year now. "It's only been two months since we last saw each other."

"That's two whole months!"

"You're being ridiculous."

Marley grins. Her eyes fall on Quinn's wrist and her grin widens. "You're wearing your lucky bracelet!"

Quinn laughs, gives the neon green bracelet a flick with her finger. "I figured I could use the extra luck on this trip."

"With what?"

"With stealing back my lucky hat."

"Yeah, you'll need all the luck you can get," laughs Marley, adjusting it. "So, is it bad that I've been looking forward to this for the past two months?"

"No, so have I."

Marley winks at her. "But I'll bet you didn't turn in a paper late because you got distracted reading travel blogs while putting together the itinerary for our summer trip."

"Marley!"

"I'm kidding!"

"Didn't sound like you were kidding." Any lingering anxiety she's had about this trip has completely vanished. It's amazing how her girlfriend seems to have this calming effect on her, and she does it so effortlessly.

"I never kid when I'm talking about road trips with my favorite person," says Marley very seriously, even as her eyes are gleaming with mirth.

Quinn laughs and starts the engine. "Your favorite person?"

"Oh, wait, no. I changed my mind, I like Santana better."

"Oh. I'm relieved that I'm not your favorite, actually; I was wondering how I was gonna break the news to you that Rachel's actually my favorite…"

She can feel Marley swell with mock-indignation beside her. At the next red light, Quinn darts an amused glance at her, to which Marley makes an exaggerated face back.

Quinn clamps her lips together. She knows they've started an unspoken competition, that Marley won't give up until she gets a reaction out of Quinn, but she's not about to give her dork of a girlfriend the satisfaction of winning.

"How was school?"

"Really? We're doing small talk now?"

Marley's eyes twinkle. "Sorry. I mean – how was your wealthy genius school?"

"Good. We're learning how to act like spoilt trust fund babies next year," says Quinn dryly.

"Would that be before or after the bug stomping classes?"

Quinn can't help it; she giggles. She catches the triumphant beam on Marley's face, and thinks that even though she's lost, she's also won. "I can't believe those words just came out of your mouth."

"Doesn't matter. I made you laugh." College – and New York, to a lesser degree – is a good look on Marley. She carries herself with an easy confidence now, and Quinn would be lying if she didn't find that attractive on normally-shy Marley Rose. Although right now, it's less _attractive self-confidence _and more _smug self-satisfaction_.

"You're such a dork."

"Hey – takes one to know one." And Marley fires off a very familiar wink and finger-gun combo.

"That didn't work the last time you tried," Quinn lies through her teeth, shaking her head in mock disappointment.

Then Marley arches one eyebrow in a spot-on imitation of Quinn, which almost makes Quinn burst out laughing. "Are you sure about that?" she murmurs. Which completely turns the mood on its head, and makes Quinn's head spin.

_God, this girl_, she thinks. "Positive," Quinn manages, ignoring the way her heart pounds in her ears.

Marley gives her one last secretive smile before turning her attention back to her iPod.

* * *

It had been Marley's idea for them to drive back to Lima for the summer holidays.

Marley had been visiting from New York at the time, and the topic of the upcoming summer holidays had come up. Quinn had thought that Marley would tell her that she was staying in New York for the summer to take extra shifts at her job, like Santana. She'd mentioned it during a Skype session the week before, about how generous the overtime is, and how much more money she'd be able to make without classes limiting the number of hours she can work.

Despite Marley's full scholarship and how much the Roses downplay their financial situation, Quinn knows money is always tight with them.

And yet, she couldn't help but be a little disappointed by the prospect of not seeing Marley for the summer; Quinn was expected to be home in Lima to spend time with her mom. Rachel and Kurt would be in Lima too, and Santana would be too busy working to spend much time with her, so she wouldn't have any excuses to stay in the city – excuses that would be plausible to her mom, that is.

She's not planning on coming out to her mother anytime soon; her private life is precisely that, and even though Quinn's relationship with Judy has improved by leaps and bounds, she thinks she's had enough parental pressure in her life as it is.

"So," Marley had said, "what are your plans for the summer?"

Quinn hadn't had a ready answer. "I'm not sure. I think my mom's expecting me."

Then Marley had surprised her by saying: "My mom insisted she'll be fine for the summer, but I was thinking of going home for the holiday. Lima needs its kickass catering team."

Quinn couldn't believe her ears. "Is there a space on the team for one more?"

"For you? Duh. Hands down, the best food chopper-upper and delivery girl I've ever seen and we could really use that." Marley had paused, then added, smiling shyly: "But I was thinking we could fit in a short road trip somewhere. Maybe a week or so, since it sounds like we've both got a pretty packed summer schedule."

"Another road trip? Wasn't last year enough for you?"

"You can never have enough epic and life-changing road trips, I haven't been spending enough time with you this year, you won't be too far away to kiss… all very good reasons for another trip, I think." Much to Quinn's amusement, Marley had ticked off the reasons on her fingers as she spoke.

Quinn had snorted, torn between rolling her eyes and letting herself be charmed by how cheesy Marley is. "Too far away to kiss, eh?"

"Don't pretend you don't feel the same way," Marley challenged her, chin tilted up, eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Maybe I don't. Who knows?"

Marley scowled. "You're a terrible tease."

"So is that a yes? We're doing this?"

"That's a yes, you idiot. Are you _sure_ you're an Ivy League student? Because I – " Whatever Marley had been going to say about her reasoning is lost when Quinn grabbed a pillow and smacked her in the face with it, effectively derailing the conversation.

* * *

Marley frowns at her. "That's not how I remember it."

"Oh?" Personally, Quinn is a little bewildered by the whiplash-inducing change of mood; Marley had been laughing throughout the entire retelling, so much so she'd been wheezing.

"Yeah." Marley pushes herself up on her elbows. "All I remember is: there I was, about to surprise a certain dense person by not staying in New York all summer…"

Quinn laughs obnoxiously. "Who, me?"

"I didn't say it was you specifically."

"There were only you and me at the time."

"Innocent until proven guilty." She rolls over to flop on her back. "Ugh, I'm exhausted."

"I told you not to overdo it today."

Marley's eyes snap open. "Quinn, it's _Hersheypark_. When next are we gonna get the chance to spend the entire day at Hersheypark? Never."

"If I let you plan next year's itinerary, I bet we'll be going to Hersheypark again," says Quinn.

"I love the fact you're already planning to let me plan next year." Marley's cheeks are flushed, though Quinn can't tell it's from sunburn or something else. But then she touches her cheek and winces. "Ow."

Quinn tuts. "... and you forgot to put on sunscreen, didn't you."

Marley sticks her tongue out at Quinn. She gets up and starts rummaging through her bag, muttering something about aloe vera gel, and useless girlfriends devoid of sympathy.

Quinn decides she's had enough. She sidles up behind Marley, pushing aside her hair with one hand, dropping a kiss, then another, on her exposed neck.

Marley hums. She turns around in Quinn's arms, kissing her properly. "I've missed this," she says into Quinn's lips.

"Me too."

She leans in again, tilting her head to one side so she can deepen the kiss. But before Quinn can properly lose herself in Marley, the other girl pulls away, smiling impishly. "Quinn, we were supposed to go out and have our dinner."

All of her self-control flies out the window when it comes to Marley. "You started it."

"No, I didn't," Marley laughs. She pushes at Quinn's hip playfully. "But I'm ending it." Without warning, she darts forward, pecking Quinn on the lips.

Quinn grumbles good-naturedly. "Okay, then. But only because you promised to buy me dinner in exchange for me accompanying you on that coaster."

"Since when has this relationship become a transaction-based one?" She laughs, but then redeems herself a little when she reaches for Quinn's hand, pulling her back in to whisper, "I'll make it up to you later" in Quinn's ear.

And really –

– Marley had better keep her word, because she's become quite the wicked tease and Quinn doesn't think she'll be able to hold out that long now.

* * *

She should've been suspicious after Marley insists on driving back to the motel after dinner. But Quinn's pleasantly full, and content just to be around her girlfriend, which also means that she doesn't notice that Marley's deliberately taken the wrong turn-off for their motel, and is currently heading out of town to goodness knows where.

"Where are you going?"

"Nowhere in particular." But the careless smile Marley tosses at her tells Quinn that this could be the "making up for it later" she was promised; her heart skips a beat.

Quinn can't resist a snide, "I don't remember this being on the itinerary," as the car pulls up beside a small clearing.

Marley takes the comment in her stride. "Maybe driving out to strange woods in the middle of the night is our thing, and thus doesn't need to be listed on the itinerary."

Quinn snorts. "God, no. I'm sure we can do better than that."

"Yes, of course; but it's not a bad idea."

"No. I'm vetoing it."

Marley laughs at her, climbing out of the driver's seat. Quinn takes her time before following her outside – and barely manages to catch the armful of blankets thrown at her.

"Nice catch."

Quinn shakes her head and chooses a patch of grass to spread out the blankets.

Marley doesn't help much, but she flops down once Quinn's finished setting it up, putting the bundle of sweaters in her arms to one side. "This is really comfy. You've gotten good at this."

"You can be such a pain sometimes." Quinn gets up, making the movements as casual as she can. She goes back to the passenger seat of the car, rooting around for the gift she'd stashed there after dinner. She'd had a hard time hiding it from Marley, waiting for the right time to give it to her.

Despite the heat of the June afternoon, the night is fast becoming chill; Marley has her back to Quinn, fiddling with a thick sweater when Quinn returns – which is awfully convenient for Quinn to adjust her grip on the gift she's hiding behind her back.

When Marley finally notices her, she is quick to turn back around, smiling up at her girlfriend, patting her lap exaggeratedly.

In answer, Quinn raises one eyebrow. Marley's response is to giggle, but she doesn't look away from Quinn, nor does she lose the absurdly hopeful look on her face.

Pause. Quinn keeps her face still, sitting on the edge of the blanket next to Marley, expression stoic as she deliberately ignores the disappointment that flits over Marley's face. "You're serious."

"Like a heart attack." Marley's pouting now. Which is good, in a way, because her attention is on Quinn, and not Quinn's hands. Maintaining eye contact, she surreptitiously shoves the gift she's been hiding behind her back under the blanket, grateful for the darkness.

Her work done, Quinn decides to indulge her girlfriend. She stiffly lies down, head in Marley's lap.

Even in the dim evening light, the happiness on Marley's face is unmistakable. Quinn lets herself relax a little more. She is comfortable, in a way she is fast learning that she becomes around Marley, her emotional defenses gone. And so Quinn murmurs without thinking too much about it: "So, I've started seeing a therapist again."

Quinn knows that's not what Marley was expecting her to say. Honestly, neither was she expecting here and now to be when she tells Marley the news.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I haven't really told anyone yet, because I had therapy before, but it didn't work out." She clears her throat, marshalling her thoughts. "I blew it off last time because I was mad at my mom for forcing me into it, but I was thinking that maybe it's time I tried again; properly this time." Quinn's not about to say that Marley's insistence that it would help had taken root in the back of her mind, slowly acclimatizing her to the idea. "This girl I know in my European Lit class has similar family issues, and she recommended her therapist to me."

Marley just lifts Quinn's hand to her lips. Quinn takes that as her cue to continue, the last traces of hesitation melting away.

"It's not a big deal, really. It's early days yet, and we haven't really gotten farther than me alternating crying and stone-faced silence for the entire fifty-five minutes of the session."

"It's not a small thing either, Quinn." The tone of Marley's voice brooks no argument.

Quinn keeps her eyes trained on Marley's cheek. "I suppose. But the important thing is – I'm going. Once every fortnight." She attempts a weak smile. "Good thing I'm still on my family health insurance plan, because therapy is _expensive_."

She likes to think that she knows Marley well enough to predict how she'll react. But then Marley still manages to surprise her by sort of pulling her up. Quinn ends up practically sitting in Marley's lap as Marley kisses the side of her head, mumbling: "I'm proud of you" into her hair.

Startled, not knowing how to respond, Quinn just nods stiffly, mumbling: "I know."

A low laugh sounds in her ear, warm air curling over her skin, making Quinn shiver. "_I_ know _you_ know. But I think you should hear it anyway."

And okay, she _does _need to hear that validation because she's new to all of this – _acceptance stuff_. Even though one of the first prayers that Quinn learned was the Serenity Prayer, and that had a line in it about asking for the serenity to accept the things that can't be changed.

Surely Marley Rose counts as one of those things that can't be changed, because of the way she swept into Quinn's life and turned everything upside down. Quinn and her emotional walls never even stood a chance.

She sort of leans back into Marley, smiling when Marley hums in contentment and puts her arms around Quinn's middle. Marley's hand finds Quinn's, their fingers tangling together. "I know therapy is a big deal for you; I just don't have the words to express just how proud I am that you're taking that step."

"Just don't tell Rachel, and we're good," Quinn jokes weakly. "She won't take the loss of her Quinn Whisperer title well." She needs a break from this. A small part of her can't help but feel like she's ruining this moment with the heavy turn of the conversation. Everything Marley makes her feel hasn't diminished over time and distance, and it scares her a little with how something as simple as Marley's ability to be proud of her makes her stomach flip.

"I would never!"

"Like how you never told Rachel we came in second at that karaoke competition in Nashville? It's been months, and she has yet to stop pestering us to go for karaoke whenever I visit."

Marley shakes her head, looking like she's about to burst out laughing. "I already said I was sorry, Quinn."

"Right."

"Anyway, I kinda have big news too." Marley lies down, tugging Quinn with her, keeping one arm curled possessively around the other girl's waist. "It's not as groundbreaking as yours, but… I'll be signing up for a music class next year."

"What, really?"

"Yeah, really. You know how I've been shopping around for a way I can still do music stuff?"

Quinn nods.

"Well, my guidance counselor finally got back to me. She says there's a new class that'll be offered next year," says Marley triumphantly. "It's pretty general, but it's a composition class; best yet, since it's offered by NYU, I don't need to pay anything extra like I would've for an external course, _and _it counts towards my general credits."

"Wow."

"Yeah, wow," echoes Marley, in a voice so deadpan it makes Quinn laugh – which sets Marley off as well.

"I'm so happy for you," says Quinn once they've both calmed down. "It's a pretty good compromise. This way, you still get to pursue your dreams."

"Yeah…" Marley shifts. "It's always been on my mind, y'know, about me pursuing my dream versus being practical… I kept on wondering if I was doing the right thing, if I'd made a mistake."

The words come out of Quinn's mouth automatically. "You know I'd support you, no matter what you chose."

Marley nods happily, chin pressing into Quinn's shoulder with every movement. "I know. I've never doubted that. But it was more about me asking myself some very important questions: what would I do if money wasn't an issue? Would it be so bad to just believe that I could be good enough to really make it? I mean… I've gone on and on about how much I believe in you, but it's awfully hypocritical if I didn't do the same for myself."

"Honestly? While believing and all is really nice, don't get me wrong; I think I'd prefer you to be practical," says Quinn carefully.

Marley laughs. "I know. I'd prefer me to be practical, too. So this is me being practical; I'm still doing that business degree, but this way I still get to do something I love, whether I'll end up in the music business or not. I think that as long as I'm being true to myself, things will work out eventually."

It makes Quinn think of her father, and of law school. Despite his threats, she's secured another year of college tuition from him, with her mom's – and unexpectedly, Frannie's – help. With everything that had been unfolding in her life, this was just one battle won in the war. She still doesn't know what's going to happen after she earns her degree.

But Marley's words make her think past that. That her life can be simple as long as she's true to herself.

The thought leaves as quickly as it appears. "I'm proud of you," says Quinn. "I'd never have been able to make a big decision like that on my own. I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not very good at fighting for the things I want," she adds in a dark undertone.

Marley's expression becomes inscrutable. "I wouldn't say that."

She knows, from the faraway look in Marley's eyes, that she's thinking of their conversation last year, just as Quinn is doing right now.

But then Marley turns her head so she's looking at Quinn intently; almost as though she's seeing Quinn for the first time.

Quinn clears her throat.

"Hey, Marley?"

"Hmm?"

Quinn's cheeks burn hot. "I've got something for you." She doesn't wait for Marley's response, gingerly reaching for the lump in the blanket.

"Quinn…"

She hands it to Marley, smiling shyly.

She'd gotten the idea from Rachel and her vision boards – although she had a very different purpose in mind. It's taken her a full year to gather enough things to fill up the corkboard. Faded ticket stubs from movies, handmade string bracelets, and little handwritten notes jostle for space with photographs.

Marley has always been an avid photographer. Even though she has a portfolio of 'real' photos, most of what Quinn deems her best works are here, pinned on the corkboard; in one corner, a slightly blurred image of the two of them outside one of Yale's buildings. A photo of Marley with a large sandwich and an equally-cheesy thumbs-up there. There's an artistic shot of Quinn in profile, framed by the setting sun, that she posed for in Marley's dorm room.

Quinn watches Marley closely as the other girl's fingers trail over the memories. Quinn smiles as she follows the movement to one of her favorite photos: herself, Rachel, Santana, Kurt, and Marley crammed together on a couch. It was from a housewarming party Rachel, Santana, and Kurt threw after they'd moved into their loft in Bushwick. Marley has on her usual irrepressible grin, arms around Quinn's waist. Quinn herself isn't looking at the camera, but wears a soft smile as she glances at Marley.

The photo is dated from about a year ago. Beside it sits another photo of them that was taken in Quinn's dorm room, in nearly-identical poses; this time, Marley looks at her with that same soft smile Quinn wore, while Quinn has an arm around Marley as she smiles at the camera.

Real-Quinn's smile mirrors photo-Quinn's smile. "It's been almost a year, and I still haven't regretted making the decision that brought me here – brought us both here," says Quinn, and clears her throat. "I know we've had our fair share of ups and downs; it took months for me to let you fully past my emotional walls. But we've come this far, and it felt right to commemorate that somehow."

"It's not much, but…" She stops when Marley's palm cups her cheek.

When Marley finally meets Quinn's gaze, it's with sea-blue eyes; soft and deep with emotion. "Thank you," she says, voice small. "I really… this is beautiful, Quinn."

"I'm glad you like it."

Then Marley shakes her head, laughing herself. "I guess great minds think alike, because… I also got you something."

"I'm not surprised, actually," Quinn tells her.

She feels, rather than hears, Marley's laughter. "I'm a little disappointed now. Close your eyes."

Quinn does. First, she feels the press of lips against her own, gone before she can kiss Marley back; next, a weight settles in Quinn's lap.

"Okay, open."

The photo album looks like any other ordinary album; plain black in color. Her first thought is that she's compiled a physical portfolio of all her beautiful photos; over the year they've been apart, Marley's sent her photos of New York life. Quinn's loved every single one; they offer her a glimpse of Marley's life through her eyes, a privilege she's been granted since they live in different cities.

So Quinn opens the photo album, expecting to see skyscrapers and other such big dreams given life.

She finds herself looking at a place she remembers fondly from a year ago. She and Marley smile up from the photo, standing in front of a steam locomotive… Myron. His name was Myron. And there's the selfie she remembers they took with Myron's driver, which makes Quinn laugh.

Scenes from their road trip jump out at Quinn as she flips through the album. Many of them she remembers posing for; like the one in front of the lake when they were hiking (god, she looks so awkward in those). Others, she doesn't remember, like a clearly candid one where she has her back to the camera, face in profile as she walks. The little bit of street she can see tells her the photo was taken in Cleveland.

God, she must have been engrossed in something big if she didn't even notice this photo being taken.

The next page has one of them outside the Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame; they both have identical looks of excitement on their faces.

Some of the photos make her laugh, like this one of them posing with their fake IDs. Quinn vaguely remembers agreeing to that photo on condition Marley wouldn't share that incriminating photo. There's another shot of Marley holding up the stack Quinn got from Santana, a comically exaggerated look of horror on her face. A ridiculous shot of Marley pointing at the Kelsey Museum's signboard.

Marley outside the M Den that she remembers Marley taking. She smiles at the excitement on Marley's face.

Another photo she remembers; the one of them after the Jim and Sam concert, decked out in their merchandise. They both look so happy.

But many of the photos she doesn't remember at all. There's one of her where she's looking at her phone, a mug of coffee in front of her, that looks like it could have been taken on any day of their trip. These intimate photos are interspersed by photos from the trip, providing little vignettes that break up the chronological order of the trip.

She was right, in some way; this is their trip from Marley's eyes. Quinn's smile turns fond. She vaguely remembers something Marley had said, about seeing herself the way Marley sees her…

Past Chicago, the photos become distinctly more intimate. There are far more candids of Quinn, but they show her wearing expressions Quinn doesn't remember having; one where she is smiling softly at something out of the shot, eyes alight with mirth. Another in which she is wearing the white blouse, and the sun is shining, making her eyes seem to glow golden (Marley was right, after all). Yet another, where she has her eyes closed, facing away from the camera, and she looks… peaceful.

Yes, she remembers that one now… it was taken somewhere outside of Indianapolis. She'd spotted Marley holding her camera, but she'd assumed that she was taking a photo of the scenery.

Some of the photos are clearly taken by a phone camera and printed out. There's a slightly blurred one of Quinn on the ice skating rink, another featuring Marley's hand holding an ice cream. Quinn in a dark room she vaguely remembers from Nashville and the karaoke competition. A photo of them from the fair in Chicago, together with the prizes they won.

The timeline captured in the photo album extends beyond the road trip. The next page holds a photo of Marley, on her bed, surrounded by all the souvenirs she'd bought or acquired on the trip. Photos of the two of them, and their friends, on various outings throughout the summer follow.

She reaches the end of the book. Slowly, Quinn flips back to the front, and begins again.

She pauses on her favorite photo; one she recognizes from the ferris wheel in Chicago. It's of her, staring out the window. Her expression is barely visible, reflected in the glass of the window, and she looks _transported_.

If her memory serves her right, she was about to kiss Marley.

Quinn blushes hotly.

When she closes the album, something falls out of it.

The blurry Polaroid shows a scene Quinn recognizes from a month ago, taken on her last visit to New York. They're on the ratty couch in the Bushwick loft Rachel, Santana, and Kurt share, and they have Squishy between them. The Quinn in the photo has her face scrunched up as she laughs, while the Marley at her side presses an exaggerated kiss to her cheek.

She remembers it well; Marley had wanted to try out the self-timer function on her new (recently purchased from the secondhand store) camera. She'd only had nine seconds to scramble for the couch once she'd set the timer; Quinn remembers Marley sprinting towards her, giggling like a loon.

Really, that summed up Marley's personality.

She looks up into blue on blue; the inky-blue of the sky, contrasting with Marley's eyes. "I love it," Quinn tells her.

"I'm glad." Marley chuckles softly, putting the corkboard in Quinn's lap, on top of the album. "Funny how we pretty much had the same idea." She rests her chin on Quinn's shoulder.

Quinn wants to say it's not funny at all, because there's no better way to capture everything they've gone through, but doesn't.

"A year ago, you would never have opened up to me like this," says Marley, looking Quinn in the eye. "You'd never have agreed to therapy."

"No." She remembers rejecting the idea when Marley had mentioned it, angered by the idea that she needed fixing, that her dysfunction was something to be pitied.

"If I noticed there was something you weren't saying – and that's a big if – I'd have to try and coax you into talking to me."

Quinn turns her head away from Marley, teeth pressing into her lower lip. She knows it's not a rebuke – Marley's never judged her – but she can't help but feel uncomfortable. As much as she tries to move away from her past, it has a way of catching up with her, forcing her to confront the person she used to be.

A hand on her knee brings her out of her thoughts. "Quinn, I'm not saying that to make you feel bad. I thought that the album would remind you of how far you've come – how far we've _both _come."

"... Oh. So that's why you said great minds think alike."

"Yeah." Marley looks away, briefly. When her gaze returns to Quinn's, it's almost – nervous.

"Quinn?"

She hums.

"I love you."

Quinn's mind goes blank.

"I've been waiting for the right time to tell you." Marley's smile falters, hands fidgeting in her lap. "I just… I know I said I'd try, but I think I have for a while now. Loved you, that is."

And then –

– images unfold before her eyes in technicolor. She sees a future now, Marley woven into the tapestry like she's always belonged there. It's completely unlike the bleak small town dreams she used to carry like a millstone around her neck, when she _settled_. If someone believes in her, there's no reason Quinn can't learn how to believe in herself; she just has to trust in herself, that she'll make the decision that's right for _her_.

"I know it's a little scary and overwhelming; we've just finished our first year of college, and we barely see each other," Marley is saying, "but that doesn't change the way I feel about you, Quinn."

"Marley…" Quinn wishes there was a way she could bottle the feeling she gets whenever Marley looks at her. She feels cared for and safe, like nothing in the world can hurt her. "I love you too." She pauses, and smiles. "But you already knew that."

Marley beams back. "I do. But it was nice to hear it, anyway."

"So… what happens now?"

"Now? We move forward together. Just like we've been doing over this past year." Marley smiles wider.

"What do you mean?"

Marley laughs, not unkindly. "I mean happy anniversary, my oh-so-dense Ivy Leaguer, and I'm hoping there will be many more in the future."

Her eyes prick suspiciously. "I… I don't know what to say." It feels strange, like she's passed some test she wasn't aware of.

"I don't think there's anything else that needs to be said." Marley leans their foreheads together; Quinn's eyes flutter shut, and she relishes the feeling of intimacy, inhaling Marley's scent.

It feels like an age before she moves forward to kiss Marley.

Butterflies erupt in her stomach, just like every other time they've kissed. Kissing Marley always makes her feel like she's invincible. Quinn is distantly aware of the album and corkboard slipping from her lap as she angles her body towards Marley; hands cup Quinn's face, pulling her closer.

"I love you," says Quinn, almost wonderingly, as though she can't believe this is actually happening.

Luckily for her, Marley seems to understand; her answering smile is something Quinn knows she'll treasure for the rest of her life.


End file.
